Spare Parts
by Sincere Nonsense
Summary: A story doesn't just belong to one character or time period. Everyone has their own backstory and experiences. Spare Parts is a series of one-shots that explore some of the things happening on the fringes of my other stories. In other words, this is where I'll put all the random scenes that didn't fit.
1. Instructions are Boring (MV 3-4)

Introduction to Spare Parts

One of the wonderful-but also frustrating-things about writing in the Transformers universe is that there are sooooooo many characters. Right now in my main story we only get to spend time with a few of them. But lots of other stuff is going on in the background. All of the other characters have lives and stories of their own. There are even a couple more canon characters who go to the same school as my main characters, who just don't show up much until later.

I wanted to share some of the scenes I've written that don't quite fit in the main story, but I don't want to post a whole bunch of stories that are only one chapter long. So this is the natural solution.

The chapters in Spare Parts will have a wide variety of lengths and topics. Some of them are funny, some are sad. Some happen during the story, some happen before. I'll give you a little context at the beginning of each chapter to let you know when and where we are.

I'll also lable the chapter titles so you know what story and chapter each chapter of Spare Parts is associated with.

ex: Instructions are Boring (MV 3-4)

Meaning the chapter "Instructions are Boring" fits best when read between chapters 3 and 4 of Many Voices.

Simple enough, right?

* * *

Instructions are Boring

Context: This takes place at the same school Soundwave goes to. Chronologically, it's sometime between chapters 3 and 4 of Many Voices.

* * *

Ratchet had expected that the intelligence and maturity of his classmates would be closer to his now that he was studying with students who were older than him. But so far this widely-renowned private school seemed to be entirely full of idiots and lunatics. His new roommate was messy and talked too much, the hallways were filled with bullies and creepy drones, and to cap it all off Ratchet was now stuck with a chemistry lab partner who _wasn't paying attention!_

He shot a quick glare at the mech sitting next to him. Yes. Still doing something on his datapad. How did these mecha even get _in_ to this school? Why didn't the teacher notice and call him out on it? Ratchet looked around the room, scowling.

It was terrible, really. Chemistry was one of his favorite classes. Why hadn't he been paired with a different student? Most of the others seemed to be at least _looking_ at the teacher.

He shot another glance at his distracted lab partner. Now the mech was tapping the desk, frowning down thoughtfully at whatever was on the datapad. Ratchet leaned over, trying to see what it was. Earlier, it had looked like he was drawing something.

"All right, let's get to work," the teacher said. "One partner from each table can come up and get your supplies."

Ratchet's lab partner finally looked up. Other students started getting up from their desks.

Ratchet couldn't remember what the teacher had been talking about. "What do we need to get?" he asked.

"Weren't you paying attention?" his partner said. "Here, I'll go get it."

"I…" Ratchet said, but his lab partner had already hopped off of his chair and was headed to the front of the room.

"Weren't you paying attention?" Ratchet muttered. " _He_ was the one doodling."

As he watched, his lab partner got a box with the supplies and a datapad that probably had instructions and a worksheet to fill out.

Then he came back. "Here are the instructions," he said cheerfully as he set the datapad down in front of Ratchet. "Looks like we have to make two different solutions. Which one do you want to do?"

"Aren't we supposed to both work on both of them?"

"Uh…" he set down the box of supplies and came around to look over Ratchet's shoulder. "I don't think it says you _can't_ each do one. But if you want to do them one by one, I'm ok with that. It'll just take longer."

Ratchet huffed. "Yes." He said.

"Ok," the other student sat down in his chair again.

At least he was being sort of accommodating. Maybe this wasn't going to be as terrible a disaster as Ratchet had expected. He should at least _try_ to work with this idiot. "Wheeljack, was it?"

"Yup," The other student reached for the supplies box, and started pulling everything out. "You can call me Jackie, though."

"Wait!" Ratchet said. "Leave all that in there! What if you get things mixed up? Just do it in order… here." He shoved the datapad across the table. "You read me the instructions. I'll do it all myself."

His partner, Wheeljack, frowned.

"Well?" Ratchet said.

"Why don't we just each do one?" Wheeljack said.

The other groups were already started. If they argued too long, they'd run out of time. "Fine," Ratchet said. "Just don't mess it up."

"Here's all the stuff for the first one," Wheeljack pushed the things he'd taken out over to Ratchet's side, then pulled the box closer to him to finish emptying it.

Ratchet didn't quite feel comfortable with this arrangement. What if Wheeljack did something wrong and the teacher took points off?

But he forced himself to look down at the instructions. Then he started organizing his supplies, to make sure he had everything he needed. Then he glanced over at Wheeljack again. The other student was humming to himself quietly as he stirred a beaker full of liquid.

"Don't you need this?" Ratchet asked, holding up the datapad with the instructions on it.

"Nah," Wheeljack said. "You can use it for now." He looked down at his beaker for a moment, thoughtfully. "I wonder what would happen if I drank this."

"What!"

"I mean, I don't think it's toxic, but there might be some sort of reaction if it mixed with energon..."

"Are you insane?" Ratchet said.

Wheeljack looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "It's ok. I wouldn't actually do it."

Ratchet took in a deep vent and went back to what he was doing. He was going to fail. This other mech was going to ruin everything.

"I know what would happen if you drank yours," he said. "But it's not very exciting…"

Wheeljack kept talking as they worked. Ratchet's frustration and anxiety grew. The other mech still didn't seem to be paying attention to what he was doing. And Ratchet hadn't seen him actually _measure_ anything, or so much as glance at the instructions. Before Ratchet was finished, Wheeljack pushed everything out of the way and went back to doodling on his datapad.

"What are you doing?" Ratchet hissed.

"Inventing something," Wheeljack said.

"We're in the middle of class…"

"So?" Wheeljack said, then leaned forward and scribbled something on whatever he was drawing. "I'm done with the assignment."

Ratchet pulled Wheeljack's beaker of solution over to his side of the desk. It seemed to be the right color.

"If you want I can help you with yours." Wheeljack asked.

"No." Ratchet went back to working on his solution. He finished in a breem or so, and went back to trying to see what Wheeljack was drawing.

The teacher came by. Ratchet expected him to reprimand his lab partner for doing something other than the assignment, but he didn't.

"Good job. Looks like you two are doing really well. Wheeljack?"

Wheeljack looked up.

"Thank you for following the instructions."

Wheeljack shrugged. "No worries."

The teacher walked away.

"Did you even _look_ at the instructions?" Ratchet said.

Wheeljack grinned, and shrugged again. "Instructions are boring." He shoved his datapad in his bag and started digging around in it, muttering to himself.

"All right class, looks like everyone's finished. Put all your spare materials back in the boxes and bring them up here again. Leave the two solutions you should have made on your desks."

Ratchet stood on his chair and started packing everything else back in the box. He wished he'd been allowed to do the whole assignment on his own.

"Hey Ratchet," Wheeljack whispered.

Ratchet looked over at his lab partner. Wheeljack was was holding a little vial of glowing blue liquid. "What?" Ratchet asked.

"Watch this," Wheeljack grinned, and dumped the vial into his solution.

"No…"

The liquid fizzed, churning and rapidly changing colors.

It darkened to a deep maroon, hissing louder.

Ratchet leaned away, putting his arms up to protect his faceplate.

 _BANG!_

A wave of heat washed over him and suddenly the atmosphere was filled with smoke and the sound of other students screaming. Ratchet wondered whether he was about to die.

Slowly the smoke cleared and silence fell. He hesitantly put his arms down.

All the attention in the room was on them.

Wheeljack cautiously un-shuttered his optics. His faceplate was singed black.

He grinned. "That was awesome!"

Ratchet stared at him, horrified.

"Wheeljack, I need to talk to you after class," the teacher said.

"Aw, come on…"

The teacher glared at them, then turned his attention to the rest of the room. "Everyone bring me your extra materials please," he repeated.

The other students slowly started moving again, gathering supplies and taking them up to the front of the class.

The sound of the explosion was still echoing in Ratchet's audios.

They both looked at the place on the desk where Wheeljack's solution had once been. There was only a ring of soot there now. It was ruined. They'd get half credit for this assignment, at best.

This was a nightmare.

"Well…" Wheeljack said. "I'm glad I didn't drink it."

Ratchet stared at him. "We… needed that."

"It was pretty exciting, though. Maybe we should try it again..."

Ratchet put his helm down on the desk with a moan. He should never have come to this stupid school.

* * *

Notes:

Note 1: But wait, you say. This is supposed to be consistent with Transformers Prime. This Wheeljack isn't Prime Wheeljack, this is more like G1 Wheeljack.

Note 2: I know. I'm sorry. G1 Wheeljack really really REALLY wanted to be in my story. I told him no. But he kept bugging me about it. I warned him that his being here would create problems I'd have to resolve by making his life miserable, but he said he didn't care. So, here he is. The goofy, adorable, blows-everything-up-on-accident G1 Wheeljack.


	2. Ravage (MV 9-10)

Introduction: This is a backstory chapter. It happens before the beginning of Many Voices, but I'm putting it up now, between chapters 9 and 10 because if you've read chapter 9 you've already met Crescent in the main storyline and kind of know who she is. At the time of this chapter, Soundwave is about one and a half vorns old.

* * *

I looked at the ground so she didn't have to see my screen. She always thought I was staring at her when she could see it. She didn't like me staring at her. "I-I…"

"You what?" _Don't waste my time._ Crescent didn't look up from the datapad she was reading. It was a romance novel, full of things I wasn't sure I quite understood. But she seemed to enjoy it.

"Ca-a-an I-I ha-a-a-a-ave-ave…. a… sy-sy-symbi-i-ot?"

 _What did he say?_ "Can you… do what?" She narrowed her optics and lowered the data pad. _A symbiot. He just asked for a… no._ "No. No, I don't need anything else underpede, Soundwave."

I took in a few quick vents, trying to hide how shaky I was. She didn't like whining. She hated whining. I shouldn't complain… But a few decaorns ago, when we'd been in Iacon, we'd walked right past a little femme about my age who had a symbiot she was playing with and she had been so happy. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since then. "I-I pr-r-ro-omise I-I-I'll take ca-are o-o-f it."

"Absolutely not."

"I-I-I wo-on't bo-othe-e-e-er yo-ou for a-a who-o-ole vo-rn."

"Soundwave, would you please speak like a normal youngling. We just went to see my medic yesterday and he said there was nothing wrong with your voice box. Stop trying so hard to convince me to feel sorry for you. I know it's just a trick."

My shoulders hunched. I really was trying. "O-ok."

"And no, you can't have a symbiot."

"Bu-ut the-e-ere's nobo-ody else to-o-o talk to-o." She didn't want me talking to her servants. She got mad when I tried to be friends with them.

She shot me a sharp glare, and I looked down at the ground.

 _Maybe he would stop bothering me so much if I got him something else to play with. And it might help with his silly stutter if he had a symbiot to talk to. At least maybe I'll catch him talking normally so I'll know for certain he's faking it. But we'll have to find a symbiot that's not afraid of him. I bet he's even afraid of himself, creepy little glitch. Part of me wishes I hadn't... Oh, the stupid promises we make when we're grieving…_

"Fine," she said.

Relieved, I relaxed a little "Tha-a-ank…"

"Shut up."

Silence fell.

She sighed. "Just… go entertain yourself somewhere else for now. Go to your room or something. I'm busy." She went back to the data pad, and I left her alone.

She forgot about it though. She didn't even think about getting me a symbiot for the next several decaorns. I didn't want to remind her, in case it bothered her and made her change her mind.

* * *

"So," one of Crescent's friends-a femme designated Dazzle-said. "Did you hear what happened last decaorn at Requiem's party?" _I need to know if Crescent is suspicious. She's good at figuring things out, especially lately._

"Yes," Archer, a mech sitting by the side of the room, said. "That overcharged fool, August." _Spilled most of his business secrets to a whole room full of mecha. I'd heard rumors about a few of the things he said, but not all… some of that was pretty dark. I won't be surprised if he disappears for treason. Too bad… once he'd gained the council's favor, I was hoping to ally myself with him…_

Crescent frowned. "I heard a little bit about it. Didn't he have too much high grade and start bragging to the others at his table about all the important criminals he had dealings with?"

Dazzle winced. _Too blunt. This femme shouldn't say things like that so casually._

"More or less," Archer said.

 _He spilled all of his secrets… just like you're spilling all your secrets to me,_ Crescent shook her helm. "Guess that's why you should be careful with high grade… though I've heard a theory he was drugged on purpose."

Dazzle forced herself to look thoughtful, and a little skeptical. _Yes. And I know who did it. But does she? Let's see if she hints at it. If so, we'll have to move to block her before she does anything. She's hard to blackmail, though. If she's got any really juicy secrets, she hides them well… there's that mechling, but I think that's just an act. It isn't too hard to see she doesn't really care about him…._

"I hadn't thought about that," Archer said. _I had wondered… where did she hear that rumor? Does she know something? That would be interesting. Maybe next time I have a chance, I can corner her and ask about it._

"Not really good for Requiem's reputation, though," Crescent said. "If it's true… do you think it could have been Requiem himself? I mean, it wouldn't be hard for him to have a servant slip something into August's energon."

Dazzle couldn't tell if she was hinting at anything. It wasn't Requiem who'd done it, though.

They didn't know I was here—well, Crescent knew. But the other two didn't. I sat out in the hallway, waiting for them to finish talking. I didn't really like Crescent's friends. They were only friendly on the outside. They talked nicely to each other, most of the time. They spent joors and joors and joors talking to each other at parties and little gatherings like this. But they didn't think nice things about each other.

They kept going for a long time. I was pretty bored, by the time they finally got ready to leave. Not that I had much else to do. I got to my pedes and went to Crescent's office before her friends could come out into the hallway and see me. Sometimes she brought me right into the room with them, especially if we were visiting someone else's house. I liked this better. If they couldn't see me, they didn't stare at me. They didn't like me at all, and the ones who had sparklings always told them not to play with me. It wasn't fair, really. I knew why mecha were scared of me, but some of Crescent's servants didn't mind me so much if they had time to get used to me before she fired them.

Once the others were gone, Crescent followed me into her office.

"Well," she said, and sat down at her desk. "I definitely have some questions from _that_ conversation." _I think Dazzle's plotting something. She seemed a little on edge, especially toward the beginning…_

Dazzle was planning a lot of things. Most of them I didn't really understand, but I did understand enough to explain it to Crescent. After a sentence or two, Crescent gave up trying to decipher my talking, and let me sit on her desk and type on a datapad instead as she asked questions.

We did this fairly often. Something seemed wrong about it, but I didn't care that much. It made Crescent happy when she knew all her friends' secrets. She was nicer when she was happy.

There had been a lot of information her two friends had thought about during that conversation that she thought was useful. By the end, she was really feeling triumphant, which made me feel kind of good too.

"Well," she said when she'd run out of questions and I had told her almost everything I could remember. "This has been a very productive orn." _I feel like going out to do something… not sure what…_

She was a good mood. This could be my chance. "Can I-I-I ge-et a sy-ymbio-ot?"

She frowned at me. _I did tell him that, didn't I? Well, why not? This orn's as good as any, and I_ do _want him to have something to do so he stops bothering me all the time…_ "Ok," she said. "Fine. But if it doesn't stop you from pestering me when I'm busy, we'll give it back."

I nodded. I understood.

 _We'll have to walk. Ugh, walking is so slow. But I don't want to drive with that creepy little thing inside of me._

She led the way out of the house. I followed, hurrying to keep up, as we walked outside and down the street. Before too long, we got to a more crowded place, and I realized it had been a bad idea to come with her. I had needed to make my range grow to listen in on Crescent's conversation with her friends, and now there were too many mecha in my helm. I started to feel dizzy and fell behind.

Crescent noticed, and waited for me to catch up. "Soundwave," she hissed.

I shook my helm a little, trying to clear my processor. "So-o-orry."

She took my hand and pulled me.

I was glad she did, because I didn't want to have to concentrate on where I put my pedes.

 _He sometimes gets like this when we're outside. This is why I can't take him anywhere. I don't know why he complains so much about being cooped up in the house when every time we come out here, he gets sick._ Her train of thought was just one of many.

By the time we got to the symbiot shop, my processor was hurting, but it always did that if I was around too many mecha for too long.

It was a little better in the shop. Symbiots didn't think things I couldn't understand, and they didn't think them very loud either.

"Ok," Crescent said. "Let's find you something medium sized, sturdy, and quiet." _Something that won't get in my way, and won't escape._ She let my hand go, and left me in the doorway. I watched her for a few astroseconds, then started following her.

A large cat hissed at me from behind scratched-up bars. I stopped.

It growled, a low and menacing rumble. _Why did he stop? Go away._

"You-u're sca-ared, aren't yo-o-ou?" I asked quietly, taking a step closer. The cat hissed. "I-It's o-ok. A-a-a lot o-of… e-eve-e-eryo-one's scared o-of me."

It narrowed its optics. _I'm not scared, you're the one who should be scared!_

I could tell it was a lie. I could feel how scared the cat was, just like I could hear what it was thinking.

It was ok. I wasn't really scary. You were only supposed to be scared of something that would hurt you, right? I wouldn't hurt anybody. I really wouldn't.

"I-It's ok," I said again, and reached out. The cat shied away from my hand as I neared the bars. Then I stopped, and waited for it to get a little more comfortable. After only a few astroseconds, it relaxed a little. "I-I'm sca-a-ared of a lot o-o-of stu-u-uff too. E-e-even stuff I-I sho-o-uldn't be-e sca-a-a-ared of."

The cat hesitantly crept forward, and I felt something warm inside. I reached through the bars, slowly so it wouldn't be startled. "Wha-a-at's yo-our de-esigna-atio-on?" I asked.

"Ravage," the cat said quietly, voice full of hissing uneasiness. But he was calmer than he'd been moments ago. I left my hand just inside the bars, waiting for Ravage to come closer on his own.

 _What is that sparkling… no!_ There was a scream. I jumped. Ravage started, then leaped forward and bit my hand. Another scream followed, and then Crescent pulled me away from the cage. The cat shied away, retreating all the way to the back and hissing fiercely.

"Oh, I am so sorry," the shop owner, a pretty yellow femme said. "That creature's wild, we don't know what to do with him."

"Soundwave?" Crescent asked. "Soundwave, are you stupid… You shouldn't have stuck your hand into that thing's cage, you _know_ better!" Pain flared in my hand and I didn't answer her. It hurt worse than my processor did.

 _He's just a youngling,_ the shopkeeper thought. _Why wasn't that femme watching him more closely? And we are going to have to do something about that cat. It needs to be put down. Nobody wants the awful thing._

"He-e wasn't go-o-oing to-o hu-urt me-e."

"Clearly," Crescent said, taking my hand. I couldn't hold back a whimper. It was crushed and leaking energon a little.

"Oh!" Crescent said. "Just _look_ at this."

The shopkeeper came over. "Oh, my, you poor thing. Here, I can help. I fix the symbiots sometimes."

"Absolutely not, we need to see a real medic," Crescent said. "Come on."

"Crescent?"

"What?"

I looked back at the cat, then pointed with my uninjured hand. "I-I-I wa-an't tha-a-a-at one."

"What! It tried to rip you to pieces!" _I do_ not _want that thing in my house. There is something seriously wrong with you._

 _There's something wrong with his voice box too, poor thing._

"He-e wa-a-asn't go-oing to hu-urt me-e-e." I could barely keep the keening out of my voice. I had heard that shopkeeper thinking about killing it. I didn't want that to happen. "He ju-ust go-ot sca-a-ared."

"I'm sorry," the shopkeeper said again.

Crescent turned to glare at her. "I should make you and your shop fund the visit to the medic." Then she looked at me again. "We are not getting that thing."

"Bu-u-ut he-e's lo-onely a-and no-o-obo-o-ody-y wa-ant's hi-i-im, and the-e-e-ey're go-o-oing to ki-ill hi-i-i-im be-e-eca-ause…"

 _Oh, no, stop, stop, Soundwave, shut up! There's no way a youngling would know that they're going to offline the cat. If this femme figures out you can hear her thoughts, they'll take you away. They'll kill you, Soundwave. Shut UP!_

"…he-e so-ome-etime-e-es ge-e-ets sca-a-ared a-and hu-u-urts…"

 _The poor thing can barely talk._ The shopkeeper thought. _And why is it hiding its faceplate behind that visor?_

"Oh fine!" Crescent said. "Fine, you can have the stupid monster, and then if it rips you to pieces, at least I'll be _rid of you!_ "

 _Oh, my…_ the shopkeeper's processor stalled.

Crescent took in a deep vent to cool her systems, and turned back to the shopkeeper. "How much for the cat?"

The femme just stared. _She should not talk to a youngling like that…_

"Well? How much is it?"

"Are you sure, ma'am? It's wild… not exactly a household pet. I think it would be better to…"

"I am buying the cat!" Crescent said. "Are you going to tell me the price or do I need to ask to talk to your manager?"

I looked back at Ravage, who was watching me with wide optics. I could tell he'd understood. He hadn't thought about them killing him, and now that he'd heard me say it, he was really scared. His only hope was that they'd let Crescent buy him. At least he wasn't scared of me anymore, though. In fact, he was grateful.

Crescent bought him but she didn't intend to keep him. She was trying not to think about it as we walked home, because she didn't want me to know. But I knew.

When we got back to the house she set him down hard on the floor. I stayed in the doorway, cradling my broken hand. It was still slowly dripping energon. I hoped it would heal itself.

"Oh," Crescent said. "Right. Your hand." _The things I go through for this sparkling…_ She sighed. "Come on, let's go see my medic."

She picked me up and carried me this time, which I thought was nice of her. I normally had to walk if we went anywhere. She didn't drive, though. She didn't want me getting energon on the interior of her alt mode.

Fortunately, Creacent's medic's work was close by. I liked him. Crescent was nicer when we were around him, because she didn't want him to think she wasn't good at being my caretaker. She explained what had happened as he fixed my hand, leaving out the part where she actually bought Ravage, and then we went home. She said she was too exhausted to get rid of the cat this orn, and told me again she'd be mad if I let him out.

I waited for her to leave the room, and sat by Ravage. My processor hurt, and I was really tired, and my hand still ached a little. Ravage watched me cautiously as I reached my good hand in. I waited. After a few astroseconds, the big symbiot leaned forward to touch his olfactory sensor to my palm. _I like this little mech,_ he thought. _I don't think he'd hurt me… Even after I hurt him._ He leaned back. "Sorry I bit you," he said.

"I-It's o-ok," I told him, holding up my other hand. "I go-o-ot it fi-ixed."

"Why do you talk like that?" Ravage asked, tilting his helm to the side in curiosity.

I shrugged. "I-I do-on't know."

Ravage seemed to accept that. Then he shot an uneasy glance in the direction Crescent had gone. "She's going to get rid of me."

I shook my helm, which made my processor hurt more. "Do-on't wo-o-orry-y. I-I ca-a-an pro-o-ba-a-ably-y-y-y-y…" Talking wasn't working right now. I was too tired. I looked down.

Ravage seemed a little comforted though. "Ok." _I wonder if he could let me out. He'd just have to let me leave and I could go back to living on the streets like I was before._

Crescent had told me not to let him out. And besides, I still wanted a symbiot. There was no way she'd agree to go back to that shop and get a different one.

"Y-you ca-a-an stay he-ere. We-e-e just ha-ave to pro-o-ove yo-o-o-ou're no-ot sca-a-ary-y-y." I reached out and tugged on the latch. Ravage tensed, ready to spring out, but I shook my helm. If he was going to do that, I wasn't going to open the cage.

There was a moment where we looked at each other, and then he lay down. _I could push past him, but I don't want to hurt him again._

I fumbled with the latch until I'd gotten it undone, and opened the door. But instead of letting Ravage out, I crawled in and pulled it shut behind me. It was a little tight in the cage, with both of us in there, but we could fit. I was smaller than Ravage. I reached out and he let me pet him.

We were going to be friends, I just knew it. I'd have to explain things to him in more detail later when I could talk better. We needed to convince Crescent that he wouldn't hurt anyone, and that I really really wanted to keep him. Then we had to be really good and quiet and stay out of her way. As long as we did that, things would work out.

Ravage put his helm down and shuttered his optics, engine thrumming contentedly. He was tired too. I turned off my screen and curled up next to him.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Crescent eventually stopped using him so much to spy on her friends when he got old enough to start questioning her. He started complaining about how wrong it was, and she decided that she didn't trust him anymore.

2\. It's kind of interesting that with Crescent for a role model, Soundwave isn't a complete jerk by the beginning of Many Voices, but you have to remember that his abilities make it so he feels the effects of whatever he does to anyone else.


	3. New Beginning (MV 17)

Introduction: This happens during Chapter 17 of Many Voices. Just some back to school stuff. Some of these kids did not make the faculty/administration very happy last term.

* * *

Wheeljack was not expecting to get called to the headmaster's office during his very first class. He was pretty sure he hadn't blown anything up yet—at least nothing they'd notice. Maybe this was about something from the end of last term. Maybe he'd left something running in his room and it had gone wrong over the break.

That sort of thing happened sometimes. It wasn't his fault.

He left the classroom and walked down the familiar hallway. He could calculate the fastest route to the headmaster's office in a tenth of an astrosecond, he'd walked this way so many times.

He reached up to adjust his shoulder bag and found it wasn't there, of course. You were supposed to carry everything around in your subspace once you had subspace. Subspace was fun. Wheeljack had done lots of cool experiments using it over the break. But he still wasn't quite used to it.

He noticed a ceiling light flickering, and contemplated what might be wrong with it, and how he could fix it… and also some interesting ways he could modify it. He had always liked taking things apart and putting them back together so they were different. Normally his version was more exciting than the original. Sometimes it was _much_ more exciting.

Occasionally, it was _too_ exciting.

He had a pretty powerful bomb in his subspace that had been about to explode before he'd shoved it in there. Items didn't experience time while in subspace, so he'd probably be ok, so long as he didn't accidentally access it when he was trying to pull something else out.

He reached the headmaster's office and paused for a moment before hitting the entry request button. The door slid open after an astrosecond and he walked in.

"Good orn, Wheeljack."

"I honestly, honestly don't know what I've done this time," Wheeljack said as he sat on the chair across the desk from the headmaster. "I was only in my room for half a breem before class, and there was nothing on fire in there, really. And if this is about the stuff missing from the chemistry supply closet, I promise it wasn't me, I put everything back where I found it."

The Headmaster looked at him.

"Uh… it's not about the chemistry supply closet, is it?"

"No," the headmaster said, "But maybe it's time to have one of the teachers inventory it to make sure everything's there."

Oops. "Um, in any case…"

"You'd like to know why you're here."

"Yes. That," Wheeljack said.

"If you must know, I called you here because I wanted to try and work out an agreement so you aren't in detention all term."

"Really?" Wheeljack couldn't believe his luck.

"Yes. We've noticed it doesn't do much to discourage you."

"I _tried_ to tell you that," Wheeljack said. Detention just gave him a whole joor in which to be bored, and when he was bored, he started thinking about interesting things he could try to build.

"Yes, you've proven your point," the headmaster said. "We—your other teachers and I—still aren't entirely decided about what to do concerning this problem, but I thought I'd ask for your input."

"Ok," Wheeljack said.

"It's good that you like to build things, and we don't want to ask you to stop completely, but you need to be more careful with what you do, and we want to help you learn to be more careful."

He wasn't always sure what mecha meant by that. Careful was a relative term. But he supposed they kind of had a point. Only about half of the explosions that happened around him were intentional.

"If you're willing to work with us, we can start with a clean slate and we won't carry any punishment over from last term."

That was good.

"In return, we want to ask you not to do any experiments without supervision. Some of the science teachers have graciously volunteered to take turns letting you spend time in their offices after school, working on your own projects."

Wheel jack wasn't so sure about that. What if he woke up in the middle of the off-cycle with an idea? And what about… "But… how long do teachers spend in their offices after school?"

"You'll have to talk to them about that, and negotiate, but I'm sure some of them will be interested in what you're doing and willing to stay for several joors."

"Ok," Wheeljack said, still not quite comfortable with this idea.

"Is this sounding reasonable to you?"

"Well… I guess."

"I don't even want you to take the materials for your projects outside of the teachers' offices. We'll have the teachers move them back and forth, or something like that."

"Wouldn't that be kind of inconvenient?"

"And if this doesn't work, if you can't control yourself and avoid blowing things up—especially during classes or in the student wing where you could seriously hurt someone—we'll have to start considering whether we can afford to let you stay at the school or not."

They were thinking of expelling him.

"Are you willing to try this? Some of the teachers didn't want to give you this chance."

Wheeljack hesitated, then nodded. "I'll try," he said. "But I get ideas for stuff all the time." He already had a whole bunch saved up for after school this orn.

"I'd like you to start by giving me everything you have in your subspace besides the materials you need for your classes. I'll have it taken to Osmosis's office, and you can use it as soon as you get there. Next orn, Cablereach will have it."

"But…"

"This is part of the deal. You can't have the materials you use to make things explode with you during class or over the off-cycle."

"Some of it's just every-orn stuff."

"I don't care."

Ok. Wheeljack didn't want to get expelled. He started pulling things out of his subspace. Various chemicals in mismatched containers, bits of metal, data chips, crystals, mechanical parts, a blow torch, other tools, pieces a datapad he'd taken apart, and some small odds and ends he'd collected...

It took him almost a full breem to empty his subspace pockets-another nice thing about subspace was that he could carry around so much more stuff now.

"Is…" the headmaster said, staring at the substantial pile of equipment and materials on his desk. "Is that all?"

Wheeljack thought about that live bomb he still had in subspace. That might not make a very good impression.

"Yep," he said. "That's all."

The headmaster looked at him like he didn't quite believe it, but then sighed and shook his helm. "Well, if that's all, you can go now."

"Thanks," Wheeljack said and left his office.

He felt very uncertain about this. It was nice that he didn't have to go to detention anymore, but this was almost worse... Maybe it would be all right, though. He did get along pretty well with most of the science teachers. And if he had an idea that just couldn't wait, he'd find a way. He did still had plenty of stuff for experiments stashed in his room.

this was going to be an interesting term.

* * *

"Welcome back."

"Thanks. Glad ta be here."

Silence fell, thick and full of questions and guilt and expectations. Jazz didn't want to be the first one to talk.

"I am somewhat concerned about your actions of last term," Master Yoketron said. "But it is not my place to judge you or your friends. I will say, though, that I sincerely hope I don't hear of any further incidents like that this term."

Jazz looked up. "You're still gonna teach me?"

"Well, yes," Yoketron said. "I won't give up on you just because you've made some wrong choices. From the way you asked that question, I can tell you are remorseful."

Sort of. Probably not remorseful enough. Jazz certainly wasn't going to turn around and apologize to anyone, or stop hanging out with Verdict and Motormaster. He didn't necessarily _like_ what they did, but ruling the school had been kind of a fun feeling.

Of course, that had ended when that new mech had showed up, and gotten in their way. And then there was the fact that Soundwave could read minds, which was kind of a scary secret to know. Jazz didn't like the idea of exposing him. He didn't know what would happen, but he didn't want to risk having anymech's death on his conscious.

Part of him hoped the whole thing would blow over, and Searchlight would keep his helm down and Verdict would just avoid Soundwave like had had for the last week of the previous term. And then there was another part of him that wanted to try and prove the mind-reading thing, just to see if he could do it. And he wanted to help his friends take back the school, because that might be an interesting challenge too. They'd lost a lot of respect last term, and they'd have to do something new to earn it back. And staying out of trouble was going to be even more of a challenge too, which would make it more fun.

"Jazz?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I do kind of wish that hadn't happened. But I never hurt anymech… personally, at least."

"Hmm," Yoketron said. "I suggest you keep it that way. I am not training you so that you can hurt anymech."

"I understand that."

"I believe you do, but I'm not so certain about your friends."

"I thought ya said ya weren't going ta judge them."

Yoketron was silent for a moment. "I did. My apologies. Permit me to make one judgment, though."

Jazz nodded slightly.

"You are better than you give yourself credit for, young mech. And you _can_ be better than you have been in the past. In fact, I _expect_ you to be better."

So did the rest of the world. For whatever reason Jazz couldn't fathom, mecha believed in him. Cablereach, Yoketron, Vibes… but Vibes had also believed in Jazz's mech creator, and that hadn't turned out so well. "Ok."

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

Notes:

1\. Yes, Yoketron teaches circuit-su classes at their school (and also has a few private students). Don't ask him why he's decided to teach high school. He'd probably just say something cryptic and sneak away while you were trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about.

2\. I feel like Jazz and Wheeljack have both been kind of difficult characters for me to portray, especially Wheeljack for some reason. But I keep trying :) They will each get their very own side story, by the way, later on.


	4. Distant Thunder (MV 28-40)

Introduction: This scene is set in Iacon, where some real, world-wide plot stuff is happening. I'm not sure exactly where it fits chronologically but it's some time between chapters 28 and 40 of Many Voices.

* * *

Maccadam looked up when the door slammed open and one of the last mechs he'd expected to see rushed in.

The noise in the room died down a bit, and mecha stared as the well-known senator charged across the room looking very excited and undignified.

Of course, if he _was_ going to show up, he'd make a scene of it.

"Alchemist!" Alpha Trion slammed his hands down on the counter. "I need to talk to you!" He had an exuberant light in his optics—good news, hopefully. There hadn't been much of that in the past little while.

Half the room was staring now. Maccadam leaned forward. "Who?" he said. "Are you feeling all right, your honor?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Alpha Trion said.

"Why don't you come in the back and sit down for a while?" Maccadam said, gesturing for him to go past the counter to the back. "And then I'll call a transport to take you to the Hall of Records or the Council Hall or wherever you need to go."

Alpha Trion walked past him and Maccadam pretended to send a comm, while he watched the mecha in his oilhouse. He waited until everyone seemed to go back to what they were doing before he left one of his employees in charge and made his way through the back hallway and to his office. Maccadam was certainly glad to see the mech, but he had _told_ him to use the back door if he wanted to come in and talk…

Alpha Trion was sitting behind Maccadam's desk, now looking decidedly solemn and regal.

Maccadam quirked an optic ridge and sat down across from him. "All right," he said. "What is it? I haven't seen you for ages, Alph."

Alpha Trion's lip plates quirked up into a smile and he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Guess."

"What are we, sparklings?"

"Alchemist, I've found him!" Alpha Trion whispered.

"Also, I have said it many times. Do not call me that in public, in my oilhouse. _Please,_ Alph _._ Found who?"

"I've found the next Prime."

"Oh," Maccadam leaned back and crossed his arms. "Again?"

"Really, this time," Alpha Trion said.

"But last time you talked to me, you said the council was refusing to appoint one. They haven't changed their minds, have they?"

"It doesn't matter this time," Alpha Trion said. "This time, nothing will stop him."

Maccadam frowned. He had known this mech for millennia and he could sense his anxiety. Something _was_ different about this time, or Alpha wouldn't be acting like _this_ about it. Pressure made him unpredictable. "Ok. Who is it?"

"He's one of my clerks."

"Favoritism, Alph? An archivist?"

"Yes. I've made him my assistant."

"I pity the poor spark."

"Nonsense," Alpha Trion said. "Well…" His excitement seemed to wane a little and he frowned. "I pity him too, I suppose."

"Yes. Anyone who you take on as an assistant is better off throwing themselves off of…"

"Alchemist, would you take this seriously?"

"Would _I_ take this seriously? You were practically bouncing off the walls out there. They're going to be talking about that for decaorns. What is _going_ on?"

Alpha Trion went solemn again for a moment, then relaxed a little. "I believe…" he said cautiously. "He is the last one."

Maccadam frowned. "What?"

"The Last Prime. From the great war prophesies in the Covenant."

Silence stretched for a moment. Maccadam met his brother's brilliant white optics, then looked away and shook his helm.

"No," he said. "I don't think we're quite there yet, Alpha. And you don't even know if this mech's even going to end up as a Prime in the first place. It seems like every few vorns you show up here shouting about how you've found one, and then what? The council refuses to appoint them and everything goes back to the way it was."

"I am certain about this one," Alpha Trion said, still solemn. "Everything matches; all the signs are there. He's not just worthy, Alchemist, he is _different_. And I felt it, when I spoke to him—Primus confirmed it."

Maccadam froze. "You felt Primus?"

"Yes," Alpha Trion said. "For the first time in almost a decavorn."

Silence again.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," Maccadam said. "If you're sure it was really Primus." Their creator hadn't been very talkative lately.

Alpha Trion nodded. "And things are going to fall apart before too long. Can't you feel it? The council are keeping secrets from me. Even what I do know isn't good. Halogen's been in power too long—it's corrupted him. I didn't think it would, and I don't understand it, but…"

"But the end of the world? Surely we can find a way to calm things down and get the right mecha on the council again, like we did back when…"

"No," Alpha Trion said. "No, we have to stay out of it. The great war is in the Covenant, and that means it's Primus's will."

Maccadam sighed. "You know… never mind, I don't want to start that argument again. So, this new Prime of yours—this archivist—have you told him who you think he is? How does he feel about that?"

"He's too young, I haven't said anything to him yet."

"Too young?"

"Nine vorns."

Maccadam raised an optic ridge. "Nine vorns. He hasn't even been an adult for half of his life."

Alpha Trion nodded.

"And you think he's the Last Prime?"

"Yes. And hopefully things won't fall apart for another decavorn, and he'll have some time to mature before he's appointed."

"Nineteen vorns isn't very old either."

"I know. And things are moving more rapidly than I want them to." Alpha Trion sighed. "And... I should go. I am very busy." He stood.

Maccadam stood as well and stepped in front of the doorway. "Wait," he said. "You are _not_ going to show up here, tell me you've found the Last Prime, and then run off again. We live in the same city, and I haven't seen you for more than a vorn, brother. Stay and talk a while."

"I…" Alpha Trion looked down. "…I do have things I need to do."

"Like read the Covenant for the eight millionth time?"

"Yes," Alpha Trion crossed his arms. "I need to check all of the signs of the great war again. There could still be something I'm missing. And besides that, I have to babysit the council as often as possible. Regrettable decisions are made when I'm not there."

"You can take a twenty breem break," Maccadam said.

Alpha Trion hesitated for a few more astroseconds, then sighed again and sat down. "All right." He looked tired and ancient for an astrosecond, but then perked up again. "How has business been?"

"Good, as usual," Maccadam said. "Tell me more about this mechling Prime. What makes him so different?"

"Well…" Alpha Trion said. "Even when we hired him a vorn ago…"

Alpha Trion talked, and Maccadam listened, glad he'd managed to talk the mech into staying for a while, and hoping this would help. His brother's behavior—solemn one astrosecond, and energetic the next—was a bad sign. It meant he was troubled and anxious on the inside.

Maccadam was nervous too. He _could_ feel it—the pressure in the atmosphere, heralding a storm. He could hear it in whispered conversations between his patrons, see it in the filthy streets and the number of starving sparklings running around without homes. He could sense it when he listened to the news, and mark it in the discrepancies between what the media said, and what the mecha he spoke to personally reported.

Things could not continue the way they were—not for much longer. There was too much complacency in high places, and too much unrest among the masses.

But he still clung to the hope that Alpha Trion was wrong. He didn't want to believe the great war was coming. Those prophecies made up the last section of the Covenant of Primus, and they got even more vague and difficult to understand at the end, as if Primus himself was unsure what the outcome would be—as if Primus himself didn't know what would happen afterward. It was the end of history, the end of this final age of peace, maybe even the end of Cybertron itself.

Maccadam wasn't ready for that. No one was ready for that.

* * *

Notes:

1\. The end of the world is coming. Dun dun duuuuuun!

2\. Poor Maccadam. He tries so hard to keep his true identity secret and discredit the rumors. And then his siblings randomly show up and ruin everything :) They probably do it on purpose, to annoy him.


	5. Old Promises (MV 40-41)

Introduction: this takes place sometime shortly after chapter 40, and is set in Iacon.

* * *

"Orion."

Orion looked up from his desk. "Yes?"

Alpha Trion waved at him to come over. "I told you we were having a visitor this orn, didn't I? Someone I wanted you to meet."

Orion nodded, saved his work, and then got up. "Yes, I remember. I'm nearly finished re-checking the index numbers on the Pre-Quintesson history sector."

"Anything out of place?"

"A few," Orion said.

"Well, good job. Now, come along. I should have known our guest would be early."

The annoyance in his voice made Orion smile a little. "Alpha Trion, didn't you say he's an old friend?"

"An old ally," Alpha Trion said. "Always on the same side, never quite seeing optic to optic. But he's a good mech, he's just… well, let's go."

Orion followed his wise old mentor. He'd initially been frightened by Alpha Trion, but that had faded quickly. Most thought of him as intimidating, cold, and a little crazy, and maybe he was sometimes, but Orion knew him well enough to know that was mostly a front. And, as demanding as he was, he was also very understanding and thoughtful.

Orion didn't think anyone else knew just how much this mech did—running the Hall of Records, _and_ acting as a member of the High Council. And every orn—though Alpha Trion had never said it outright—Orion was more convinced that this was the real, actual, historical Alpha Trion, not just a mech designated after him.

"Is this…" Orion dared to ask as they went down the stairs toward the main lobby of the archives. "Is this someone like you and Maccadam?"

"Hmm? Oh, I see what you mean. No, he isn't. Old, yes, but not _that_ old."

Orion nodded to himself, trying to hide his excitement. That had been as close as he'd ever gotten to getting a confession. He'd asked outright once, whether Alpha Trion was one of the original thirteen, but the old mech had just said something indecipherably cryptic and then slipped away before Orion could ask for clarification.

He followed Alpha Trion to a small reading room, where a mech sat, reading a datapad with a raised optic ridge. He looked up and set the datapad aside as they came in.

"Good orn," the mech stood.

"Orion, this is Master Yoketron. Yoketron, this is my assistant, Orion Pax."

"It is good to meet you," Yoketron said, peering into Orion's optics as if searching for something in them.

"Please sit down," Alpha Trion said.

"I think I've read a little about you," Orion said as he settled into a chair. "Are you the same Yoketron who developed a way to fight the Quintesson reprogramming?"

"Hmm…" Yoketron smiled slightly, sitting as well. "I wouldn't quite say 'developed.' My role has been somewhat exaggerated by the history books. But I _did_ fight in the wars, yes. You're well-versed in ancient history I see."

Orion shrugged. "I enjoy reading."

"Well, I would hope so, seeing as you're a librarian," Yoketron said. "How long have you been working here?"

Orion and Master Yoketron talked—with Alpha Trion mostly observing. Orion felt like there was something going on beyond what they were discussing, though. The conversation was friendly, and drifted from history—which they all knew a lot about—to Orion's hobbies, to how the Hall of Records was organized, to the current political scene.

As time went on, though, Orion caught the other two glancing at each other more and more often as if they were having a private conversation as well.

"Orion," Alpha Trion said, during a lull in the conversation. "Why don't you show Yoketron the project you were working on last orn? Go and fetch it, would you?"

Orion got up. He had the distinct feeling that he was being intentionally sent away. "Of course, Alpha Trion," he said, and left the room. He'd take his time—give them time to talk about whatever they didn't want to say in his hearing. If they'd wanted to talk privately, they hadn't needed to invite him in the first place. Maybe he'd ask Alpha Trion to explain what it was about later. He doubted he'd get a straight answer, but it didn't hurt to try.

* * *

"You haven't told him yet," Yoketron accused.

"Well, I was going to," Alpha Trion said. "But there hasn't been a good opportunity. He needs a little longer. He's not ready for that, but he does need to start training."

"You want me to train him before he knows who he is?"

"Well…"

"Alpha Trion, you're wasting all of our time. If this is really so urgent, then there are important things to discuss—things he needs to be thinking about already."

"I haven't been able to adequately prepare him," Alpha Trion said. "And I have other things to worry about as well. I've started pushing for the Council to consider another Prime, but they're going to put it off as long as they can…"

"The Council's blessing isn't the only method of appointing a Prime," Yoketron said.

"But they have the key to Vector Sigma, and I'd rather not have to steal it. Besides… Primus has been unusually distant these past few decavorns. In any case, Orion doesn't absolutely need to know until the Council is ready to appoint him, but that might not be until the beginning of the war."

"That's cutting it a little too close, don't you think?"

"And that's where you come in. You can prepare him, maybe even start him on the Trials."

"What!" Yoketron hissed. "The Trials?"

"Though… if he did those before he was appointed, I don't know if they would do any good…"

"I am supposed to train him to fight. There was nothing in my promise about the Trials. That falls to _you_."

"You know enough about the process," Alpha Trion said. "I can send you some more information, and everything else you need. And believe me when I say I'm far too busy..."

"I can't do that," Yoketron said.

"I'd have to tell him before the Trials anyway, so you don't have to worry about it yet."

Yoketron had a hard time keeping the frustration out of his voice. It was as if Alpha Trion just presumed Yoketron would do whatever he said without questioning it.

"For now, we'll come up with an excuse for him to learn to—"

"No."

Their optics met.

"I can't train him—I _won't_ train him—until he knows who he is. Before that…"

"Don't forget, you vowed to do this."

"I promised to train the Last Prime to fight," Yoketron said. "I don't like to conceal things so significant from my students. That makes it difficult for them to trust me. You tell him, and then I'll start training him, and I will _not_ administer the Primal Trials to him. You know full well how I feel about them."

"Those trials are necessary, and you should be grateful for them. Without them, the cycle of Primes would already have collapsed."

Yoketron looked down.

"I know you understood full well what was asked of you when Primus gave you this task," Alpha Trion said. "Have you forgotten? It seems your vorns teaching secondary school have made you soft."

"Maybe," Yoketron said. "Or maybe your vorns on the council have made you callous."

Alpha Trion stared at him.

"Or maybe you're afraid to admit to him that you've been keeping things from him. You're afraid he'll stop trusting you."

"That has nothing to do with it," Alpha Trion said calmly, quietly.

Yoketron met his gaze.

"I _am_ afraid, Yoketron. I'm afraid he would outright reject the idea. He won't even let me promote him within the structure of the Hall of Records. He'd be running the place if he'd let me appoint him as head archivist… but he won't. If I try to tell him he's destined to lead our entire race, he would fight it. I think he knows, deep down, and that's why he's so stubbornly humble. I need to prove it to him somehow—he needs to come into power on his own. He needs to _know_ that it's Primus choosing him. If he rejects his calling, then we are all doomed."

Yoketron sighed.

"If you refuse to train him…"

"When you tell him," Yoketron said. He was not going to budge on this point. "Then I will train him."

Silence stretched out for several astroseconds.

"I'm sorry, but I will not lie to him," Yoketron said. "However… I apologize for accusing you of selfishness. I will trust you to know when he's ready, but if he isn't ready to know, he isn't ready for my instruction. And I don't think _I'm_ ready either, especially if you want me to administer the Trials."

Alpha Trion looked as if he'd like to keep arguing, but at that moment, the door opened and Orion came in. Yoketron listened politely as he explained the project he'd brought to show them, and then waited for the conversation to die down before excusing himself.

Yes, Alpha Trion needed to tell Orion before Yoketron trained him, but that wasn't the only reason Yoketron didn't want to start now.

He needed to go back to Simfur for a while. He had thought he'd understood his task but now he wasn't certain. He didn't feel right about teaching this mechling to fight and he didn't want to believe that war was inevitable. He needed some time to strengthen his resolve. It would not be easy to turn this peaceful, content data clerk into a warrior. It could be done—of that he had no doubt. But it would require much change and much sacrifice, and Orion Pax, the honorable librarian, would be lost to the void of the past.


	6. Trial and Error (MV 42-43)

Introduction: This takes place immediately following chapter 42 of Many Voices. Unlike the other Spare Parts chapters so far it will be extremely confusing if you haven't read through to that point. In other words, please be sure to read that first.

* * *

 _*Bang!*_

Searchlight un-shuttered his optics in the darkness. What on all of Cybertron...?

 _*Bang!*_

"What was that?" Ratchet demanded.

Searchlight got up. "It sounds kind of like something's hitting the door," he said quietly.

 _*Bang!*_

"Hold on," Searchlight said and crossed the room to open the door. It slid aside just in time for Ravage to come flying in.

Searchlight's spark sank, even before Ravage spoke.

"Soundwave," Ravage said. "He just fell over… I think he's dying, he won't wake up."

"Primus," Searchlight said.

Ratchet got off of his berth and the two of them followed Ravage through the hall, sprinting to Soundwave's room.

Soundwave was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by scared-looking symbiots.

Ratchet pushed past Searchlight and knelt on the ground. "I think he's gone into emergency stasis," he said after a few moments of tense silence.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rumble asked.

"It means he shut down so he didn't die," Ratchet said. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed," Ravage said.

Searchlight glanced around the room and saw a box on the table.

"Out of nowhere?" Ratchet demanded. "He was all right half a joor ago. You don't go into emergency stasis just from—"

"Hey, Ratch," Searchlight cut in, picking up the box and looking inside. "I bet this is the new stuff they have him on for the pain."

"Give me that," Ratchet snapped. He took a syringe out of the box and read the label on the side of it. Searchlight knelt by Soundwave and turned him over, trying to get him into a more comfortable position.

"What are you doing?" Ratchet snapped.

"Just turning him face-up." He wasn't dead, was he? Searchlight could see no sign of life, and he couldn't distinguish the noise of Soundwave's engine from the others in the room. "Mech, I don't know how to tell if he's alive."

"Move," Ratchet shoved him out of the way, and reached under Soundwave's back, shuttering his optics.

"Should I go get Ochre?"

"Shut up," Ratchet said, and everything fell silent for a moment, before the medical student un-shuttered his optics again. "He's still got a spark pulse."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know. He might have had some sort of reaction to this," he raised the syringe. "That's the only thing I can think of."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Ratchet said quietly. "I don't recognize the drug."

"Should I go get Ochre?"

"You go get Cablereach," Ratchet said. "I'll go get Ochre. I don't think he'll offline in the next ten breems, but we should get him to Crescent's medic."

"He's going to be ok, right?" Ravage asked.

"I don't know," Ratchet said, standing up.

Searchlight stepped out into the hall.

"Wait," Ratchet said, putting a hand to his helm. "Cablereach won't be here, it's past lights-out. You go get Ochre, I'll stay here, and comm. Cablereach."

Searchlight sprinted down the dark hallways. If he ran into anyone he'd have to slow down to explain, but his luck held and he got to Ochre's office with no trouble.

She let him in, frowning. "Searchlight, it's past lights-out. What did you do this time?"

"Soundwave's collapsed. Ratchet says he's in emergency stasis."

"What?" Her optics widened. "Hold on." She grabbed a few things off of a counter and subspaced them before following Searchlight back to Soundwave's room.

Ratchet looked up as they came in.

"Do you know what happened?" Ochre asked.

"No," Ratchet said. "He must have had some sort of reaction to this. I think we're going to need to call his caretaker's medic. If he's had a reaction bad enough to put him into stasis, he could be dying."

"No!" Frenzy said. "He can't! He…"

"He's going to be fine," Searchlight said firmly, glaring at Ratchet. "You're scaring them."

Ochre accepted the syringe Ratchet handed to her. She studied it as well.

Frenzy started sobbing quietly. Rumble put an arm around his shoulder, looking grim.

"Hmm…" Ochre said.

"What is it?" Searchlight asked, hoping it wasn't more bad news.

"It's a very strong painkiller," Ochre said. "It shouldn't have knocked him out, though. Substances like this do affect the processor, but I think this one just prevents pain, and sometimes even enhances mental capabilities."

Searchlight looked at Ratchet, who stared back with wide optics.

"Give me a few moments," Ochre said, and knelt by Soundwave. She scanned him, then frowned and scanned him again. "Ok…"

"What?" Searchlight asked.

"Well, I think he's stable," Ochre said. "I… stay here and keep an optic on him. I'm going to comm. his caretaker." She got up and left quickly.

Searchlight looked back at Ratchet.

"Did she look really worried to you?" Searchlight said.

"I wonder..." Ratchet said quietly. "If the drug increases processor performance, it might have done something to his range."

Searchlight looked down, spark sinking. That was not good. "It shrinks back to normal on its own, though, so it'll be..."

"Hopefully," Ratchet said. "But something must have been _damaged_ in order for him to have shut down like that."

Searchlight took in a deep, calming vent. This couldn't be happening. "Someone should go tell Breeze."

Ratchet frowned at him.

"This could be…" He glanced at the symbiots. "I mean… she'd want to know."

"Then go tell her," Ratchet said. "Nothing she can do, though. It might be better to let her recharge in peace."

Searchlight didn't want to leave Soundwave, but Breeze would be really upset next orn if she found out he hadn't told her. He sprinted down the hall, up the stairs, and to her room to request entry. He waited for what seemed like forever but was really only a few astroseconds before he door opened.

"What? Searchlight…" she said, then her expression changed. "…what's wrong?"

"It's 'Wave. He's collapsed. Come, I'll explain on the way."

Breeze nodded and a moment later, they were running through the halls again while he told what had happened. By the time they got to Soudnwave's room, Cablereach was there, talking to Ochre.

"So what's happening now?" Searchlight asked. He felt so useless. It couldn't be happening. Soundwave _had_ to be ok. There had to be something they could do.

Just breems ago, Soundwave had asked them to take his symbiots if something happened. Had he known?

Cablreach, who had been talking to Ochre, trying to reassure her that trying to get in contact with Crescent and her medic would be more productive than taking Soundwave to a hospital, paused mid-sentence, and then nodded briefly.

"What?" Ochre said.

"Crescent's going to be here in less than a breem to take Soundwave to their medic. We should be ready out in front of the school."

"I'm going with them," Searchlight was not about to let that glitch take his best friend alone.

"You should stay here," Cablereach said as he walked through Soundwave's door and bent to pick the unconscious mech up.

"No, I am going," Searchlight said again. There was no way they were talking him out of it. They'd have to magnetize him to the floor to stop him.

"We're coming too," Ravage said fiercely.

"Now that's a definite no," Cablereach said. "You four need to stay here. No medic's going to let symbiots in his office. Soundwave will be fine."

"Why are you so worried then?" Ravage demanded.

"Ravage, mech you know you can't come," Searchlight said. "I'll make sure he's ok, all right?"

Frenzy buried his faceplate in Rumble's shoulder and started to wail again.

"Hey," Searchlight said. "It will be all right. Soundwave's going to be all right…" He looked at Breeze and Ratchet. "Someone should stay with the symbiots."

"I will," Ratchet said quietly. "I can watch them."

"Then I'm going," Breeze said

"You can't…" Cablereach said.

"I'm technically an adult,"

"You're also still a student, and we can't let you leave during off-cycle joors without permission from your creators."

She looked down.

"Don't try to talk us out of it," Searchlight said.

He met Cablereach's gaze for a moment, and the teacher sighed and looked away. "Fine."

"Let me know how things are going," Ratchet said.

"Of course," Searchlight said. "I'll keep you updated."

They walked down the hallway with Cablereach, who was carrying Soundwave. He could be dying. Primus, that conversation, just a few breems ago might have been the last.

They got out to the front of the school, just as a transport drove up. Its door opened and Crescent stepped out. "Get him in," she said.

"We're coming," Searchlight said.

Crescent huffed. "Whatever, I don't care. As long as you don't expect a ride back."

Ochre looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn't say anything while Searchlight and Breeze followed Cablereach over to the transport. He deposited Soundwave on the bench across from Crescent.

"You two make sure he doesn't roll off," Cablereach said. "You…really should stay here. Especially if you aren't going to have a ride..."

"We'll manage," Searchlight said. "I can find my way around Kalis."

"Ok."

Searchlight and Breeze got in and sat on the floor. Searchlight put his arm around the Praxian femme, careful of her doorwings. She leaned into him, trembling. Searchlight was infinitely grateful that she'd come, in part because if he had her here, he had someone to be brave for. The transport started moving, taking them away from the school.

"It's going to be all right," he promised. It would be all right and Soundwave would get better and everything would be fine.

"I know," she said. "It's just... terrifying."

Searchlight nodded. "No slag. Don't _you_ ever do anything like this, Breeze. I don't think I could take that. I can't… this…"

Things would not be the same without Soundwave.

"You're so dramatic," Crescent said. "He's not going to offline."

Searchlight tensed, but Breeze grabbed his hand and shot him a warning look.

He hated that femme—hated her for everything she'd done and hadn't done, and for making his best friend's childhood a living pit. But the anger faded back into worry after a few moments.

* * *

The trip to the medic's office did not take long and then they had to rush to keep up with the medics who came out to get Soundwave and take him inside. Crescent came too, and eventually they all ended up in a spacious office with Soundwave lying horribly still on a berth and a yellow and green medic scanning him.

There was a bench by the side of the room and Breeze led Searchlight over there to sit down. Crescent joined them and they waited.

Eventually, the medic left Soundwave and Crescent looked up expectantly from the datapad she'd been reading as he approached. She'd been holding the datapad at an angle so that Searchlight couldn't see the screen, so he didn't know what it was, but he couldn't help feeling angry that she'd be acting so nonchalant about this whole thing.

"His memory storing programs and subroutines are very badly damaged—much more so than they were before. The medicine I gave him must have made the problem worse somehow."

"Oh, really?" Crescent's voice was icy.

"I apologize. There was no way to predict it would do that. I did warn you, that there was a danger in trying to prescribe medication when I don't understand the problem entirely."

"Are you going to make excuses or are you going to tell me what you're going to do to fix this?"

"I can go in and repair the damage," the medic said. "It will be a long procedure, though, and may not be effective. It will take some open-processor surgery, and joors of manual recoding."

Breeze gripped Searchlight's hand more tightly.

"So?" Crescent said.

"The problem," the medic said. "Is that repairing the damage will most likely not result in a resolution of the original problem, and his processor will only continue to rip its own subroutines apart. He wouldn't have time to recover fully before he'd need the surgery performed all over again."

And in the meantime, Soundwave would be in pain. He would always be in pain, for the rest of his life. Searchlight looked at Crescent, hating her for not caring.

She seemed deep in thought. If she told him that was all right—that letting Soundwave need processor surgery every few decaorns was an acceptable idea, Searchlight might strangle her.

"Do it," Crescent said. "Fix the damage. When you're done, we'll talk about expanding your access to his medical files."

The medic nodded solemnly. "I'll do all I can."

"You had better." Crescent stood.

"Where are you going?" Searchlight demanded.

"I don't want to sit here for joors watching open-processor surgery," Crescent said. "I doubt very much that you do either."

Searchlight looked at Breeze.

She looked down.

"It's all right," he said. "Go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Searchlight said, letting go of her hand. "You should go back to the school."

"What about you?"

He shook his helm.

"Ok," she said, offering him a weak smile, then followed Crescent out of the room.

Searchlight was not going to leave Soundwave's side until he was online again, or permanently offline. He _needed_ to be here.

The medic shot him a less-than-pleased look. "You'll have to go out in the hall."

"I'd rather stay here," Searchlight replied. "I'll be quiet, and I won't move."

The medic looked surprised, and then somewhat unsure. "Well… I don't think you understand…"

"I'm not going anywhere and I won't get in your way. I just want to be here, please."

The medic still didn't seem satisfied. "All right," he said. "But stay there quietly."

Searchlight nodded.

The medic looked at Soundwave, then back over at Searchlight. "You two are good friends aren't you?"

He'd just asked Searchlight not to talk. "Yes."

"Good," the medic said. "This mech needed friends."

And then there was no more conversation. The medic called in assistants and they set up equipment and positioned Soundwave so they would have easy access to his helm. Searchlight couldn't see much, but he wasn't really sure he _wanted to._ He kept telling himself that Soundwave would be all right, that they'd find a solution. But he had to admit it looked pretty bleak. He hadn't been this worried since Motormaster had nearly killed him. And that had been different. That time, they'd known pretty quickly that he was going to be all right—that everything was going to go back to normal.

The medic took a step back and looked in turn at his assistants, probably giving them instructions over a comm. So far the whole procedure had been silent save for beeping spark support equipment and the clinking of tools against tables. Searchlight wished they'd explain what they were doing. At the same time, he was perfectly happy to avoid ever hearing the specifics. They bent over Soundwave again, and Searchlight heard buzzing and the creaking sound of plating separating, and then one of the assistants turned and set Soundwave's face screen on a table. Searchlight took a deep calming vent to keep his systems from overheating. They were responding to the stress in his core, running hot and fast as if he were in danger. He tried to focus on something calming, tried to meditate.

But he'd never been good at that.

"By the Allspark…" the medic stopped.

Searchlight looked up.

"What… what is _that_?"

"Primus beneath, it's not supposed to look like that, is it?"

"No," the medic said. "I've never seen a layout like this. Excuse me a moment, I need to talk with his caretaker."

There were a few breems of quiet and then the medic sighed. Searchlight sat forward on the bench, desperate to hear what was wrong.

"Well?" one of the assistants said.

"We continue as planned," the medic said. "Leave the rest for later."

"The rest of what?" Searchlight said. Then added "sorry" into the end when the medic shot a disapproving look in his direction.

"Soundwave's processor has a lot of abnormal qualities that didn't show up in the scans," he said. "And… look, I shouldn't have told you that—patient confidentiality and all—but it's nothing to worry about, just…" he shook his helm. "I don't even know what half of this is for."

Searchlight looked down again. They removed all the rest of the armor on his helm, leaving nothing but the delicate, inner-workings of his processor.

After that, it simply seemed to take forever. Searchlight sat on the bench and waited, feeling sick and helpless and exhausted, but too nervous to recharge.

After long joors of quiet, intense work that ended with them reassembling Soundwave's helm, they stepped back.

The medic came over to Searchlight. "What's your designation?"

"Searchlight."

He nodded. "We're not going to wake him up yet. You should go catch a few joors of recharge before dawn."

"I'd rather stay here."

"So long as you don't move from that bench, and don't touch anything."

"So…" Searchlight said.

"There's definitely hope," the medic said. "Though not much else. I've never…" he frowned to himself. "In any case, I still suggest you recharge some. Do you need anything? I can get you some energon if you want."

"No thanks," Searchlight said. "I'm fine."

One of the medic's assistants repositioned Soundwave so he was lying in a more comfortable-looking position on the berth and then they all left. Searchlight sat and kept vigil. He was exhausted, and at this point could probably have recharged, but he didn't want to. Not until he knew whether or not Soundwave was going to be all right.

So he sat and waited, and occasionally talked, though he knew Soundwave couldn't hear him. After a while, he got out his datapad and found that Breeze had sent him several messages, asking how things were going and if they were all right.

He took his time responding, then messaged Ratchet with the latest news as well. At least Soundwave wasn't dead—that was one thing. There was hope, and the medics hadn't given up so Searchlight wasn't going to either.

He wished it could be him instead.

* * *

After a few joors, the medic and his assistants came back in. Crescent followed them, and went over to stand above Soundwave, looking down at him with a thoughtful expression on her faceplate.

"Well…" the medic said. "I don't know what to tell you."

"I told _you_ ," Crescent said coldly. "I told _you_ the files wouldn't help much."

"They do help, just… now I know there's absolutely no way for me to find out what's wrong through any sort of research."

Files? What were they talking about. "What files?" Searchlight asked.

Both of them looked at him.

"You're still here?" Crescent asked.

The medic looked to her. "Would you like me to have him leave?"

She looked at him and he could see it in her faceplate that she would enjoy kicking him out. He glared at her, daring her to do it. He was pretty sure the medic would be able to help more if he knew about Soundwave's abilities. He'd promised never to tell anyone, but if Crescent gave him a reason…

She smirked and shook her helm. "He can be here."

They'd talked about files earlier, and Soundwave might have mentioned it as well. Some sort of restricted medical files about him, maybe?

"All right," the medic said. "We're going to start bringing Soundwave back online."

Crescent nodded.

The medic and his assistants gathered around Soundwave, and Searchlight couldn't see him from his position on the bench. He barely dared to vent, as the medic talked quietly, for about half a breem, and then shook his helm.

"Put him back," he said. "Shut him down again."

A few moments later, they backed away.

"Well," the medic said. "You have two or three options here."

Crescent nodded. "Go ahead."

"I still don't know what's wrong with his processor, but the moment we reset it and started it up, it began to malfunction again, undoing the work it's taken us all off-cycle to do. We can't bring him online like that. He would probably only last half a joor before going back into emergency stasis. I don't understand the modifications made to his processor any more than the medic who compiled those files, so I don't know what's going wrong with it, and I don't know how to fix it."

"You said I had options," Crescent said. "And now you say you can't do anything?"

"No," the medic said. "I'm trying to lay out the situation. You do have options. One of which is to give me full permission to experiment. I can do tests and make attempts to figure out what the problem is. This has no guarantee of helping. In fact, it's likely I could do more damage. Your other main option is to replace his entire processor."

Crescent frowned.

"That would be expensive, even for you," the medic said. "And there's no guarantee we'd be able to safely transfer everything in short term memory, or connect his long term memories accurately. Many processor transfers are either unsuccessful, or significantly change things about the mecha who undergo them."

Crescent stood expectantly.

"That's all I have," the medic said.

She crossed her arms.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I think it's likely either of those will completely resolve this problem. You could go to another medic, but I doubt they'd be able to do much more under these circumstances, even though some might say they could. Now if you could find the original medic… but I actually think I remember hearing about him, and he was sentenced to…"

"Give me a moment," Crescent said quietly.

The medic nodded and backed away as Crescent walked right up to Soundwave and stood looking down at him for a couple of breems. Then she walked over to the side of the room. She looked troubled, but Searchlight was pretty sure she was only worried about how this would affect her.

"Do all you can," Crescent said at length. "If the other option is completely getting rid of his processor, you might as well try to fix it. If it is further damaged… if there is nothing else you can do, then we'll talk about the second option. Let me know when you have some results."

She turned and walked to the door.

Searchlight watched her go, relaxing when she left. He noticed that the medic seemed to relax a little as well. He turned to look at Searchlight. "Are you still going to stay? You should really get some rest."

"I'm fine," Searchlight said.

* * *

In half a joor, the medic and his assistants had Soundwave's helm open again. The medic talked a little more as he worked this time. Searchlight picked up the fact that there were not only unusual modifications to his processor, but systems that shouldn't even be in there at all. These files everyone kept talking about probably explained it at least somewhat. He'd have to ask Soundwave about that, after this was over.

If Soundwave made it, that was.

They tested things, brought Soundwave partially online, and put him back under again. Eventually, exhaustion won over the anxiety and Searchlight slipped into a fitful recharge as the medics worked. He came back online several times, often when they were shutting Soundwave down again after a failed experiment. He lost count of how many times that happened. Eventually, they all left and then Searchlight got a few solid joors of recharge. He was running low on energon, but he couldn't bring himself to care. When he came back online, he sent messages back and forth with Breeze and Ratchet, but pretended things were going better than they actually were. Hopefully, he'd never have to tell them the truth.

Eventually, the medics came back. One of the assistants came over and sat by Searchlight. "You doing ok?" she asked.

Searchlight nodded.

"Here," she pulled a cube of energon out of subspace. "You probably need this."

"Thanks," Searchlight sipped the energon while they started working on Soundwave again. He wished this was over already, but he didn't want them to give up. If they replaced Soundwave's processor, he could come out of this a completely different mech. Searchlight had to hold on as long as he could to the hope that they'd be able to save him.

As the joors wore on, though, he started to wonder. Breeze and Ratchet and the symbiots kept pressing him for updates, and he stopped responding. All he'd be able to tell them was that the medics were still trying.

Near the end of the orn, the medic had them bring Soundwave partially online again. They had done this hundreds of times. The sun had gone down again. He'd heard from Breeze that she and Ratchet and the symbiots were all camped out in Searchlight's room, which wasn't allowed, but even Ratchet apparently hadn't argued about it.

"Ok," the medic said. "Here it… whoa! Shut him down! Shut him down!"

Searchlight's helm snapped up as the assistants scrambled to shut Soundwave back down again.

"What happened?" one of them asked.

"It got worse…" the medic said. "By a lot. That… finally. This is good."

Searchlight couldn't see how that was good.

"Do you think you can reverse what you did?" one of the assistants asked.

"Yes," the medic said. "I actually think I can."

Searchlight wanted to ask what was going on and what they were so excited about, but he didn't want to distract them. After almost a breem of quiet, the medic told them to bring Soundwave online again.

There was a brief, tense quiet.

"There," the medic said. "that most definitely made a difference. Leave him on this time, let's see if we can get it down to normal levels." The medic reached into Soundwave's helm. Searchlight couldn't see what was going on, but he dared to hope.

"It's going down," one of the assistants said quietly. "Keep going… there."

The medic stepped back. The other assistant grinned. "So he's good?"

"I hope so," the medic said. "No way to tell without waking him up the rest of the way, and I'm not going to do that until we've reset him once or twice and repaired all the damage that happened during the experimentation process." He turned to face Searchlight. "I almost don't believe it, but we may have solved the problem."

Searchlight let out a long ex-vent.

"One more operation and then we can let him start recovering."

"Ugh," one of the assistants said. "Fourteen more joors on the clock."

They went back to work. Searchlight got out his datapad and sent a message to Breeze and Ratchet. [They think they've finally figured something out. I think he's going to be all right. Tell the symbiots not to worry. I'll probably see you mechs next orn.]

It was late, but they probably weren't recharging. Searchlight leaned back against the wall and shut himself down. By the time he woke up again, hopefully, it would be over.

* * *

Notes:

1\. When I first drafted this it was just a chapter in the main story, but since it would have been the only time in the entirety of Many Voices that we left Soundwave's point of view, I figured it would be better to stick it here instead. You don't need it in order to understand what's going on in the next chapter anyway because Soundwave missed all of this and it will need to be explained to him when he wakes up.

2\. Hey, thanks for reading and stuff. You people are great.


	7. The Disease of Rebellion (MV 46-47)

Note: THIS CHAPTER WILL NOT MAKE SENSE IF YOU HAVENT READ UP TO CHAPTER 46 OF MANY VOICES. It also technically doesn't happen until sometime during chapter 47 but it's probably better to read it right after you read 46.

* * *

Halogen looked up from his desk. "This is unusual, Senator," he said before looking back down at his work. "Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

"We need to deal with that student," Ratbat said.

Halogen paused again in his work. The anger in the mech's voice was disappointing. "Excuse me?"

"The one who stood up. Earlier this-"

"I know what you're talking about." Halogen spoke calmly over his subordinate. "But you had him thrown out. Was that not dealing with him?"

Silence.

Halogen finally looked up again.

"Actually," Ratbat said. "I had him arrested."

Arrested? Why? He met the senator's optics and saw the answer in them. "You want him offline?"

"His words were treason."

This was no good. Ratbat was getting too comfortable in his power. "He is a secondary school student."

"But he spoke out against the Council."

"Yes," Halogen was starting to feel angry now too. "And you embarrassed the Council by rising to the bait and getting into a debate with him, which you _lost_."

Ratbat glared.

"And now you want to exact your petty revenge."

"We can't let him get away with this."

"Listen to yourself," Halogen said. "You are doing this because you're angry and jealous. If you let those emotions rule you, you will make fatal mistakes. If this student disappears, all of the others who were there will be able to guess why, no matter how well you cover it up."

Ratbat scowled. "No one will be able to do anything about it. He's low-sparked. His closest connection to power is the caretaker of a friend, who is minor nobility in Kalis. He's no one important, and in a vorn or two, no one will remember him."

"Then why does this matter so much?" Ratbat needed to learn to control his temper. "As I said, having a mechling, low-sparked at that, executed because he insulted you is so pitifully immature and unnecessary. If you have him imprisoned somewhere, you must release him before-"

"Everyone heard." Ratbat cut Halogen off.

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone heard him." The senator's gaze was intense now—less angry. "A low-sparked secondary school student stood up to the Council… and he was holding his own against me in a debate."

"If you hadn't gotten angry and made a fool of yourself…"

"What's done is done," Ratbat said. "We can't leave this threat to the Council unresolved."

Halogen looked back down at his work. He didn't have time for this conversation. "That sparkling isn't a threat."

"No, _he_ isn't. But what he _did_ is." Ratbat said. "What message do we send if we release him? That it's all right to stand up to us? And if he did it once, he'll try it again… or someone else who heard him will. We can't let that sort of thing go unpunished."

Halogen sighed. Ratbat did have a point. He was overreacting, painting this more important than it was, trying to manipulate the Grand Councilmech.

"Lord Halogen," Ratbat said. "These are critical times. Mecha are unhappy. This can't last much longer and your superiors are not ready to move yet."

A deep uneasiness that never truly left flared in Halogen's core. "Do not speak of that."

"In the long run, getting rid of this mech will be less of a hassle. And we can't afford to let it go—not when so much is at stake."

"I was tired of this argument before it began," Halogen said. "You know my opinion on the matter. But since you've already arrested him, I suppose you may do as you wish. As long as you understand that covering your tracks is your responsibility, Ratbat. You know the laws." They couldn't afford that two-faced media getting ahold of something like this.

"Don't worry about that," Ratbat said. "No one even knows he was arrested."

"Good," Halogen said. "Now please let me get back to my work."

Ratbat nodded and left. Maybe he was right, even if his real reasons for this were revenge. That young mech had been surprisingly convincing, and he hadn't been afraid. Fear was important. Fear was the glue holding society together. Without it, things would spin out of the Council's control. They could not let anymech, even low-sparked students stand up to them. The disease of rebellion had to be caught early and eradicated before it spread.


	8. Judgment (MV 57-58)

Introduction: This scene takes place just prior to chapter 58 of Many Voices. It will make more sense if you've read through chapter 57.

* * *

There was an air of tension in the room that wasn't normally there—an undercurrent of anticipation. Shockwave couldn't shake the feeling that even though the Council was discussing the usual items of business, this wasn't a typical orn.

He was out of the loop and he didn't like it. Of course, he was always out of the loop, but this felt worse than normal. He wondered if they were worried about that rebellion down in Kaon. Shockwave would have liked to volunteer to go down there and discover whether Megatronus's claims were true. Legitimized gladiator rings and death-slavery were serious matters, and if the rumors were accurate then it was the responsibility of the Council to put a stop to it. If he could prove it was really happening, they would have no choice but to step in.

Shockwave knew most of them were aware that these things were going on, and they didn't care. They didn't _want_ to regulate the mines, because that would lose them money and support from the leaders near the other pole.

So if he volunteered to go down to investigate, he would have to be very careful. He would need to surround himself with guards he trusted. It would be too easy for them to have him killed there and then blame his untimely death on the rebellion.

It wasn't safe. They were already looking for an excuse to get rid of him.

"… a few more things to discuss. Senator Shockwave?"

Shockwave looked up. "Yes, Councilor?"

"An unfortunate matter has arisen. One of your classmates, and—if sources are to be believed—your close friends has taken a recent, unexpected vacation."

"I am aware," Shockwave said, dread sinking into his spark. _Don't tell me they caught him. Please don't let them have caught him…_

"In fact, he has completely disappeared."

Shockwave tried to appear perfectly calm. "I don't see why this is cause for alarm, or even for discussion. I'm sure he is well. He probably needed a break from the pressures of school. I've often told him he's working too hard." He felt Paradigm send a worried, questioning feeling over their bond and he tried to reassure her. Everything was fine—she didn't need to leave class to come back him up.

She didn't seem to feel too certain of that.

"Do not play the fool, Senator," Halogen said. "We have reason to believe you were involved in his disappearance. I would warn you that assisting in the removal of anyone from the Council's protection is a crime."

Shockwave nodded. There was no way he could be convicted on that charge. He _had_ helped Wheeljack go into hiding, but they'd never be able to prove it, and even if they did, his involvement had been distant enough that he would be able to get out of it.

"Were you involved in his disappearance?"

"I did not help him leave if that is what you're asking," Shockwave said. "Nor did I know he was planning on disappearing until he was already gone."

"Yet you don't sound very worried about him," another senator said.

"Should I be?" Shockwave asked, meeting the mech's gaze. The senator looked away.

Shockwave hesitated. He had wanted to wait for this until Alpha Trion was here to back him up, but they had brought it up, and it would be very difficult to open the subject again after it had been closed. "While I am not currently worried about his safety, I would request to speak before the Council on the matter of his disappearance."

"Very well," the Halogen said. "Be brief, Senator. We do not have much time for this."

Shockwave stood. "I will be brief. There is a law and a _right_ written into our most basic codes of government. This right is extended to all Cybertronian beings of higher intelligence. I quote the Book of the First Council: All mecha, at the age of adulthood, have the right to choose their profession regardless of class, creators' professions, or frame type, provided they have mastered the skills required for their chosen occupation, and that it is legally recognized as a legitimate profession.

"This, my honorable fellow Council members, is a right that includes the agency to refuse professions as well. This government does not have the legal power to _force_ any innocent member of its population to perform a specific work. It goes against the very foundations on which this Council was formed."

He waited. His highest hope was that they would back off and stop looking for Wheeljack. Shockwave didn't know where he was, but he worried that they would find him eventually.

It was Senator Ratbat who spoke first. "You may have read the Book of the First Council, Senator, but there has been legislation since then. We have a more recent law, of twenty vorns ago, that states that in certain cases, the government may draft members of the population into necessary work. This would be true in a time of war, for example, if we didn't have enough volunteer soldiers."

The head of the Council nodded. "Thank you, Senator Ratbat. Senator Shockwave, were you unaware of this law?"

"No."

"Then you failed to take it into account."

"With all respect, Councilmech," Shockwave said. "We are not at war. I hardly think that what you demanded is necessary. You threatened a student of the Academy with imprisonment and worse if he would not make weapons for you. You cannot make the argument that this is necessary work. Who do we intend to use these weapons on?"

"The rebellion in the south is not to be taken lightly. And it is important for our government to remain strong."

"The claims of unlawful slavery that the rebellion raises are not to be taken lightly either." Shockwave said. "And it is my personal opinion that making weapons with which to threaten our mecha will weaken the government, not strengthen it. We are not at war, Councilor Halogen, but if we make weapons instead of investigating the uprising quietly, we are inviting open rebellion."

There was silence and Shockwave thought he had won. Then he saw the faint smile the Grand Councilmech was wearing.

"You make a good point, Senator," Halogen said. "But you seem to be confused about a few things. We are not making weapons to threaten our citizens, we would make them to protect."

"Protect from what?"

"There are many criminals, many rebels, and many dangerous ideas in the world today, Senator. You suggest that allowing ourselves to fall behind in technological advancement will strengthen this government?"

"I believe all of you know that is not what I was suggesting."

"Furthermore, you pick and choose which rules you would like us to follow. Legislation changes as the problems of the current times shift. As a senator, it is your responsibility to understand the current difficulties we face in leading this world."

Shockwave nearly called him out on his hypocrisy, but restrained himself. Pointing fingers wasn't going to get them anywhere. So far, he had been very careful and hadn't said anything that they could use to remove him from his position. He had worked so hard to get here...

"And I am still not convinced that you were not involved in your friend's disappearance. If you disagreed with our drafting him into government service, you should have first brought it up with the Council. That is the way we do things; if you would re-read the Book of the First Council, you would find that to be true."

"You have no evidence to say I was involved."

"If the Council votes unanimously for it, we do have the right to extract any evidence there might be from your processor."

The Council, including Alpha Trion, would need to vote unanimously, though. It wasn't much of a threat.

"I understand that, Councilmech."

"Whether or not you were involved, may we request your aid in locating him?"

"Has he committed any crimes?"

"He has refused to cooperate with our agents on a matter of global importance, and he has disappeared. He may be in danger."

He would be in a lot more danger if they caught him. "I will do my best to assist you and cooperate with your search," Shockwave said. It was an easy empty promise. He could put it off without too much trouble. He didn't like lying, but if you didn't play by their rules—in other words, break the rules—then you didn't last long.

They didn't look too happy that he'd agreed about that. Had they honestly expected him to refuse? How foolish did they think he was?

"Back to the original concern," another Senator said. "Senator Shockwave is asking us to examine whether the request that the Department of Defense made of the student, Wheeljack, was lawful or not."

Shockwave nodded. "Thank you, Senator."

"And what is your opinion on the matter?" Halogen asked.

"I think it ought to be looked into," the mech said, "And that we should take a few breems to have the evidence examined in a future Council meeting."

The Halogen nodded. "Is there anyone who would be willing to spare the time to have it investigated? Senator Shockwave, your personal involvement in the matter disqualifies you there."

Shockwave nodded.

Senator Ratbat stood. "I will have it looked into."

Well, there went all hopes for winning this one.

"Thank you, Senator," Halogen said. "I motion we close this concern for the time being, and return to it when Senator Ratbat has had time to investigate. All for moving on?"

Shockwave sat, and raised his hand. The fight was over. It had come to a draw, but it could have gone a lot worse.

"Accepted," the head of the Council said. "Now, Senator Shockwave, our next item of business also concerns you, and is somewhat connected to your involvement in your friend's disappearance."

This sounded like trouble.

"You have been on this Council for nearly a vorn, and you have already begun to gain influence, and make a difference in our government. For that you are to be commended."

"Thank you, Councilor Halogen," Shockwave said hesitantly. He was not prepared to accept that as a true compliment. The head of the Council despised him.

"However," Halogen continued. "Some of the policies you push go against the will of the Council and are somewhat reckless and inefficient."

Social change was rarely efficient. Shockwave was not going to apologize for any of the motions he upheld.

"It is not, per se, any fault in you besides your inexperience and perhaps a few unfortunate occurrences in your past. I speak of an extreme case where one of your classmates was involved in an accident that looked suspicious on the part of the Council."

Searchlight had been executed for standing up and defending the rights of the common mecha. He had been out of line, but what he had said had been true. And his death had not been an accident.

"That was a long time ago."

"Do you deny that it influenced your desire to go into politics? Before that, you had been aiming to become a scientist."

"Sitting in on a Council meeting influenced my desire to go into politics. Searchlight's death was… it was unfortunate, and unnecessary."

"In the highest circle of the Council, we have been reviewing all of the legislature you have attempted to push forward, in light of that event, and we are concerned that you may be attempting to work against us."

Shockwave met the other mech's optics. "I am not working against the Council. I think we have one of the most effective systems of government that this world has ever seen. I do believe we can do better, and that we have _done_ better in the past. I merely push for a return to some of our former principles in order to increase our ability to maintain peace and prosperity for our mecha."

"That is admirable," Halogen returned his gaze with an ice cold stare. "However, you are young and inexperienced. You already have enough of a following—which you have gained by making empty promises to the public—that it would be difficult to vote you out of office, and I would not want to anyway, but we must look forward, and not rely on the past. We are concerned that you will lead the mecha, and perhaps the Council, astray."

They were concerned because he spoke the truth too often, and brought up old—but still binding—laws that all of them would much rather forget.

"This most recent event, in which you very likely assisted a potential enemy of the government in evading arrest, is possibly the most profound example of the fact that you were not mature enough. We need wisdom, Senator, to lead this world, not radicalism."

They wanted dominion, wealth, and power, not wisdom.

"You are a brilliant young mech. But you have much to learn before you are ready to be a full member of this Council."

Shockwave looked up. What did that mean?

"So, in light of this evidence, and this recent charge against you, I would like to motion that you be temporarily removed from your seat on the Council. You will remain a senator, and we will hold a place for you, so that when you return, if you would like, we can reinstate you."

The room was silent. Shockwave stood slowly.

"In fact, there would be no need to make a record of your suspension from your duty."

Shockwave stared, spark pulsing irregularly. "Councilor…"

"During this period, you would be taught to understand more fully the way our Council operates, and at the end, you would be given an opportunity to choose again whether to pursue politics."

Shockwave let out a slow ex-vent.

Now he was fighting for his life.

"Councilor, I do not see any evidence. I have heard you make claims, but I see no evidence presented against me. Furthermore, I would prefer it if you wouldn't dance around your intentions." He knew what Halogen was trying to do.

"Do not jump to conclusions," the head of the Council said.

"You want to suspend me without making a record of it," Shockwave said. "Because you do not have the proper evidence to suspend me. I am not trying to work against the Council, and you know it. There is no cause for this."

"You speak rashly," Halogen said. "And irrationally."

Shockwave glanced at Alpha Trion's empty seat. Pit. Of course they'd do this when Trion wasn't here. He could feel Paradigm's concern over the bond, but ignored it—he had to focus on this conversation.

"And you have now spoken in your own defense. Thank you. Please be seated Senator."

Shockwave hesitated, then sat down.

"Does anyone else wish to speak on the matter?"

Another senator stood. "If it is true that he aligns himself with the Council, then he should not speak out against our decisions so often."

Halogen nodded. The senator sat, and another stood.

"I believe," he said. "That this is, indeed, a problem." He looked at Shockwave, and Shockwave met his optics calmly. This was one of his friends. "But I don't think such drastic measures must be taken. Perhaps we could give Senator Shockwave a probation period, after which, if he does not improve, we can re-evaluate the situation, and perhaps remove him from the Council in the proper and legal way."

"Thank you," Halogen said. "Please be seated."

The senator sat, and Shockwave risked half a smile in his direction.

"May I speak, Councilor?" Senator Ratbat asked.

Primus curse him.

Ratbat stood. "The most recent of his infractions, the supposed assistance he gave in helping his friend disappear, is a serious enough offense that it must be investigated. While a senator is being investigated for a crime, it would be wrong to leave him in his seat. I propose that we shorten the temporary suspension time to however long it takes to investigate Wheeljack's disappearance."

That, of course, could stretch out as long as they wanted. At least it might mean they'd stop looking for Shockwave's best friend. Not so good for Shockwave, though.

"I second that," another Council member said.

Shockwave fought to keep his fear from showing on his faceplate. He had known this could happen. He had had nightmares about them making this decision. Maybe he was just dreaming now. Maybe he'd wake up and everything would be fine.

Halogen stood. "That sounds very reasonable, Senator Ratbat. Should we take this to a vote now?"

No one spoke out against it.

"Very well. All in favor of allowing Senator Shockwave a temporary leave of absence while he is instructed in the ways of wisdom and correct thinking?"

Shockwave looked around the room as hands were slowly raised, counting them. Many refused, and a few nodded in his direction when he met their optics.

When all was done, they were too closely split. All Council members who were not present were counted against whatever motion was being passed.

They would not have dared to try this if Alpha Trion had been present to defend Shockwave.

But with him gone, even though his vote counted in favor of Shockwave…

They were too evenly split, though. He dared to hope…

Then another member of the Council raised his hand. No. They only needed one more.

The room was silent. Shockwave looked up at Halogen to see him glaring daggers at a mech across from him who hadn't raised his hand yet. They should have closed the vote. They could re-vote later, but they should have closed the vote by now.

The mech who was being glared at looked down.

Please no.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, Senator."

He raised his hand.

"Vote closed," Halogen said. "Senator Shockwave, after the meeting is over, would you mind staying to speak with me for a few moments?"

"May I speak now?"

"No."

Shockwave stood up.

"I said no, Senator."

"This Council—this Council is weakened by relying on fear and threats."

"Sit down, Senator."

"I thank the few of you who were willing and brave enough to vote against my removal. I hope fervently that you don't suffer my same fate."

"Sit _down!_ "

Shockwave sat as several guards came in. They went to stand behind his chair. Shockwave shuttered his optics and tried to comm. Alpha Trion, but he couldn't get through. He hadn't checked earlier, but they must have changed the passcodes to the communications block without telling him.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur, while Shockwave alternately tried to think of a way out, and worried about what would happen to him.

When the meeting was adjourned, the guards came forward and stood just behind his chair. He stayed seated as the others filed out of the room. None of them looked back at him. None of them would meet his optics as they left. They knew what they were consigning him to.

Halogen waited for them all to leave and the door to close behind them.

"You have two options, Senator," he said. "I _would_ send you to the Institute. However, in light of certain recent developments, there is another possibility. Though we weren't able to find Wheeljack's notes on his project, surely he spoke with you about it. If you take his place and do as we asked him to do, you will be spared."

"You want me to make weapons for you?" Shockwave said.

"Yes. We do. It's that or the Institute, Senator."

Shockwave could see in his expression that he thought he'd won, that he thought no one would ever choose the Institute over a nice, safe government job. Halogen was wrong.

Shockwave took in a deep vent. "I will _not_ make weapons for you."

Halogen looked surprised. Then his expression soured—he was probably used to hearing condemned Senators and Councilors beg. "Don't be so certain about _that_. By the time they're done with you, you'll do anything I ask."

Shockwave said nothing, waiting for them to drag him away or knock him out or whatever happened next.

Halogen turned to face the blank screen on the far wall of the Council Chamber. "There is one item of business remaining before you leave."

The screen lit up, displaying a crowded street near the Council Hall. Shockwave frowned.

"Your assistant may be a problem in the future," Halogen said.

Then he saw her. Paradigm was walking quickly through the crowd, headed toward the Council Hall, coming to find him.

"We have mecha following her, prepared to apprehend her."

Shockwave looked down. Apprehend, in this case, probably meant drag her off into some alley and murder her. He had to warn her somehow…

"However," Halogen said. "It would save us some trouble if you'd break your bond with her. Do that, and we'll let her live."

Shockwave shuttered his optics.

"Choose quickly. We can't let her reach this building."

"If you kill her, I might die as well."

"And then we'll have a lovely double-funeral for the two of you and our research team at the Institute will be very disappointed that we didn't give them the new test subject we promised."

Shockwave looked back up at the screen. If there was any chance they'd let her go...

He tried to send an apology over the bond, which just seemed to confuse and worry her more.

He wasn't entirely sure what this would feel like, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant for either of them. He braced himself, gripping the table and shuttering his optics.

Hopefully she would understand. Hopefully she wouldn't come looking for him afterward.

He took a deep vent and broke the bond.

White-hot agony pierced his spark and he gasped, leaning forward against the table. It faded after a few astroseconds, and he looked up to see Paradigm on the screen, kneeling on the ground as nearby mecha stopped and stared at her. There was no sound, but she was probably screaming. He knew it was supposed to hurt a lot worse on the other end.

This was his fault—he shouldn't have dragged her into this mess. And he would never have a chance to apologize.

His spark throbbed dully—empty, hollow.

The screen went dark.

"Well then," Halogen said. "That's settled. Remove him."

Shockwave heard someone step up behind him and an instant later, he felt plasmatic energon course through him, strong enough to overload his systems.

Everything went black.


	9. Correspondence (MV 59)

Introduction: this chapter happens during chapter 59 of Many Voices, and covers Ravage's first mission to Kaon to deliver a letter to Megatronus.

* * *

Ravage crouched in the corner between the wall and the building he was next to. Some things about Kaon were different. There were caves everywhere, in every city, but here there were more. In some parts, it was almost like there was no ground. Walkways stretched across open pits that went down so deep Ravage sometimes couldn't see the bottom.

It was interesting, and a little frightening, but definitely not as bad as Vos.

Ravage had spent a few joors following other stray symbiots around, re-teaching himself how to move silently and stalk prey. It was nice to be free, to be able to go wherever he liked and not have to worry about where Soundwave wanted him to be. Not that he'd trade being with Soundwave for this life. This life was harsh and difficult. Ravage had a safe home to return to, and plenty of energon, and Soundwave and the twins and Laserbeak.

Of course, he was supposed to be on a mission, but he'd get to that eventually, once he felt comfortable roaming Kaon—once he knew where everything was. Soundwave contacted him for a report every few breems, but Ravage was having too much fun to rush.

He started up a conversation with a grouchy turbo-dog and found out which general direction the gladiator fights were in. He stayed on the lower streets as he wandered that way. The second-most goal of a successful street symbiot, just underneath finding energon, was to avoid mecha. They were strange, mecha, with their pointless, complicated rules. Life was so much better for everyone—and simpler—if you didn't have things like government or school. The strong protected themselves and their own, and the weak learned to be strong, or didn't survive. Those who were nice to each other made allies, and those who were cruel made enough enemies that they were eventually killed. Friends were your greatest advantage, but it was always your own strength that kept you alive.

If Mecha worked like that, then Soundwave and Ravage and the others would do much better than they did. Soundwave was strong. He could do things that the others couldn't. He was smart too, probably the smartest mech of all. He could be on the top of the pecking order instead of somewhere near the bottom, if it weren't for school and government and foolish mecha who protected other mecha they didn't even like, such as Verdict. Who in their right processor could _like_ Verdict?

But mecha would be mecha and there was nothing you could do about it. Ravage darted across and open street and into another shadow. You tried to avoid mecha when you could, but Ravage was going to have to go in among a whole group of them. He was probably going to have to go inside a building if he wanted to find this Megatronus mech.

He wasn't sure who Megatronus was, or why Orion wanted to send some writing to him. Writing was also silly. Why write something down, when you could just say it? Laserbeak liked writing a lot, but that was because she couldn't talk, so it was understandable. And why Orion didn't just come here himself was another mystery, but Soundwave was smart, and seemed to agree that things needed to be done this way, so Ravage was going to trust him.

He saw a small, four-legged symbiot sneak around the corner and gave chase. The rat saw him and scuttled away, but Ravage had some speed that hadn't been leeched out of him during his vorns of quiet pethood, and he still remembered how to hunt. He caught the rat, pinning it to the ground. If he'd been here on his own, without any sort of mission, he would just have killed it and taken it's energon, but Ravage wasn't particularly hungry, especially not for the dirty, unprocessed energon running through this vermin's lines.

"Hey," he said.

"Help me!" the rat squeaked. "Help! Help!"

"I'm not going to eat you, you filthy thing. Just tell me if you know where mecha fight. If you don't know, I'll kill you and find someone else to tell me."

"Mecha fight everywhere," the rat said.

"Is there anywhere they fight, where a lot of other mecha watch?"

"Yes!" The rat said. "Yes, just don't kill me! There are good energon treats there, when the mecha are gone. Lots of mecha go there, and watch other mecha fight in a big circle."

"Where is it?"

"I can show you."

Ravage lifted his paws off of the smaller symbiot, and it streaked away, laughing. Ravage chased after it, but it dove into a little hole and didn't come back out. Well that had been stupid. Ravage knew that he was on the right track, though.

He'd been looking on signs for anything that said "Megatronus" or "gladiators", but hadn't seen anything. He wondered if he was even in the right part of the city. Maybe he should call Soundwave and ask about it.

No, he had time. Besides, if he ended up getting familiar with the whole sector, he'd be more useful in the future when they needed him to come here.

He found it on his own after a while—a big, empty place with lots of chairs for mecha to sit. Why they would do this—all gather to watch other mecha fight—was also beyond him. It just didn't make sense. Fighting was interesting to watch, but it was much more interesting to participate in. At least Soundwave never did anything _this_ stupid. Just more reason he and his friends were smarter than everyone else.

Ravage crept down through the stands to the big pit in the middle. There was a large drop from the bottom of the stands down to the arena below—probably too far to jump safely—so Ravage started looking for a better way down. He found a drain that was large enough for him to crawl through and wiggled his way in. He barely fit, but it sloped downward, so it wasn't too hard to drag himself through. After a while, he found an exit, but it just came out onto a street again—not exactly where he'd hoped to end up. He needed to find somewhere with gladiators where he could sit and listen.

" _Ravage?"_

" _Hi, Soundwave."_

" _Report?"_

" _I think I found the gladiator place, but I don't know where Megatronus is."_

" _Do you need some energon?"_

" _Not yet."_

When he ran low on power, he was supposed to go to somewhere with no mecha around, and Soundwave would come through the portal and give him more energon. He didn't think that was necessary. If he needed energon, he could find it, and he could go for quite a while without it, especially since he'd had full tanks when starting the mission. Half of the time, before he'd found Soundwave, he had run on barely anything.

" _Ok. Let me know when you do."_

" _Ok."_

Now he probably had another half a joor before he needed to report in. The best thing to do would be to somehow get into the building where the gladiators lived, and find somewhere to just sit and listen and wait.

He wasn't sure how to do that, though, so he wandered away for a while. He got into a fight with another cat, and won, killing her and drinking her energon to fill his tanks. It wasn't as nice as the energon Soundwave would have gotten him, but it was much more satisfying to have taken it honestly and deservedly.

He then turned his attention back to finding Megatronus. He went back to the place where the arena was, and sat there, until crowds started to pour in. His only exit was the drain he'd climbed down before, so he did so again. This time he considered staying and listening, but it sounded really boring, so he crawled down again. Instead of turing where he had before, he kept going.

He discovered that the pipe had several offshoots, but the main thing lead down into a cave. It wasn't the nice sort of cave you had in Kalis. It was all jagged and strange-looking, like someone had come through and ripped up the walls. He couldn't help but explore, and eventually caught sight of some mecha. They _were_ digging up the walls, though for what reason he couldn't tell.

He watched them for a while, then followed them when they got up and walked away, careful to stay in the shadows so they didn't see him. The cave was full of unfamiliar noises and Ravage wanted to go find out what they were. He had to keep reminding himself that he was on a mission. Eventually, the group of mecha he was following stopped in a small cavern. So, Ravage just went exploring. He found a section of the cave that was more rounded, and also more populated. He found a good hiding spot and watched mecha as they walked by. Eventually he saw one who looked a little more sure of himself than the others, and who had cleaner paint. Ravage followed that mech, until he went through a big door. Before the door closed, Ravage saw a clean hallway beyond it, and knew he was getting somewhere. However, where a stray symbiot wasn't too out of place in a dark cave, he would have to be extra careful inside this building. It would be better to move through the ventilation systems than the actual halls. He wished he had Rumble and Frenzy to help him. They were small enough to get through just about any ventilation system there was. Ravage might be too large.

He waited in the shadows, perfectly still until the door opened and a different mech came out. Then he dodged through, into the hallway which, fortunately, was empty. He padded down it as quietly as he could, until he found a vent to climb in. He had to rip the cover off the wall, but at least it was big enough for him to fit in.

Now, he had to find out if Megatronus was really here, and where his room was. He wandered the vents until he heard the noise of mecha talking nearby. When he followed the sound, it turned out to be a room full of tables where mecha sat and drank energon and talked. Perfect. Ravage settled down to listen.

The first thing he figured out was how to pick out the gladiators. They were mostly bigger, and a lot of them were spiky or shiny. They also carried themselves differently. Ravage could recognize the grace of a predator when he saw it.

He wondered if one of these mechs was Megatronus, and listened very closely, but couldn't tell. After a while of listening, though, he did catch a couple of other gladiators talking about him.

"…Megatronus has finished his match yet?"

"Don't know, mech," the other one said. "But Heavyfire's going to offline for sure, because he killed Curse last decaorn, and Megs does that death for death thing."

Ravage tried to figure out what they were talking about. Finished his match? Did that mean he was fighting right now? Was that what those crowds had been gathering for earlier?

It might take too long to go all the way back to the arena the way he'd come. Ravage needed to find a different route. He listened for another astrosecond, but the mecha had moved on to another topic of conversation, so he slinked away through the vents.

He wandered for a while, until he started to hear something that sounded like a lot of mecha yelling and made his way toward the sound. He slowed down as it got louder. There was something wrong about this. He came around a corner and saw a grate ahead with light coming through. Though some instinct screamed at him to run, he forced himself to approach it. The grate looked out on the brilliantly lit arena. Below there was a fight happening, while above he could see the stands full of mecha...

Ravage froze.

Mecha shouting.

Fighting.

From down here, he could see—the arena was just a giant cage.

He backed away, hissing, terrified.

They'd done that to him—they'd locked him in a cage and forced him to fight other symbiots while the mecha stood around, shouting, watching.

He needed to leave.

He backed up around the corner, then stopped again, digging his claws into the metal of the vent. He had a mission. He had a letter to deliver. He would be fine-no one knew he was here and if they did, they couldn't catch him. If anything bad _did_ happen to him, Soundwave would come for him.

Slowly, he inched back around the corner and approached the vent so he could watch the rest of the fight. Trembling, with his armor flared, he crouched at the end of the tunnel and looked out.

He hadn't realized what this place was. He hadn't realized mecha did this to each other too...

He watched one gladiator defeat the other, knocking him to the ground, running him through. There was a lot of cheering, but eventually the noise died down, and then the gladiator who had won started talking, yelling up at the crowd. Something about Iacon and one last chance.

"…barring their immediate assistance, we are on our own!" the victor finished, and then turned to walk toward Ravage. He looked different than the other gladiators. He was just as spiky, but there was no bright paint, just metallic gray. Right now, he had streaks of energon running down his frame, but other than that, the only color on him was his glowing red optics.

This must be Megatronus. He certainly looked impressive enough, and there was something powerful and unafraid about the way he moved. Ravage couldn't help but feel a sort of connection to him, and a measure of respect.

Maybe it wasn't so crazy for Orion to be sending him a letter.

Megatronus walked through a door right under Ravage, and Ravage turned and did his best to follow, listening carefully for the mech's footsteps.

He managed to keep up, until the mech turned and went a direction that the vents didn't go. Frustrated at being so close and missing his opportunity, he circled around, trying to find the hallway that Megatronus had gone down.

It turned out that it wasn't a hallway. Ravage found a vent cover that looked out over a small room, where the silver gladiator lay on his berth. He looked like he was in recharge, but Ravage waited a few breems anyway, before carefully taking off the vent cover and climbing into the room. He pulled a small datapad from the tiny subspace pocket that Ratchet had given him, and set it on the desk. When he climbed back in the vent, and slid the cover back into place, it made a clanging noise.

Ravage froze, listening as the gladiator sat up.

"Who's there?" he heard, but didn't answer. He had the coordinates for Megatronus's room now, and he'd delivered the letter. _That_ would show Soundwave that he was competent. He went back the way he had come, because if he tried to go another way, he might get lost. Once he was down in the caves and had found a nice safe spot, he could comm. Soundwave and ask to go back home.


	10. Light (MV 39)

Introduction: This one happens waaaay back when Soundwave was still in school. It would actually have fit in pretty neatly between two other chapters of Many Voices, right after they got their alt modes, but I hadn't written it at the time, so here it is now instead. Just a reminder of the way things used to be. :) Also, you get to meet some nomads. Nomads are cool.

* * *

The knock at my door at the crack of dawn dragged me from recharge. I moaned as I sat up, already knowing it was Searchlight.

Ravage got up and bounded over to the door before I sat up. The entry request chimed and I got up and dragged myself over to the door to open it before he could knock again.

"'Wave!" he said. "I just had this great idea..."

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"Just hear me out. Please, I can..."

"Talk me into it?"

"I can try at least," Searchlight said.

I sighed and backed up so he could come in. Ravage hopped up onto my shoulders as I sat down on the berth and Searchlight stood by my desk.

"So," he said. "When I came out of recharge this orn, I had this brilliant realization."

I stared at him, waiting for him to get around to telling me his idea so I could shoot it down. I had been looking forward to getting extra recharge this orn since we didn't have school.

"We have alt modes now. Flying alt modes, no less. If we want to go visit my creators we don't have to take the mass transit. We can fly.

I let silence fall for a few astroseconds. "Not that well."

We'd only had our alt modes for a few decaorns.

"We'll be flying high enough that there won't be anything to crash into," Searchlight said. "It'll be fine."

"We've never flown that far," I said. "And if one of us crashed we'd be stra-anded."

"Which is what comms are for."

I sighed.

"Come on, I thought you'd be excited," Searchlight said. "This means you can go visit Laserbeak whenever you want. _And_ I bet flying is much faster than the transit, so it won't even take that long to get there. Look, if you don't want to come this time, I can try it out by myself."

I shook my helm.

"Come on, mech, I want to see my creators."

"Right now?"

"Yeah." _Let's go! Come on, what could possibly happen?_

I shook my helm. "Give me ten breems."

"Awesome!"

"This is a bad idea."

"It's fine."

I shook my helm. I was only going because if I didn't, he would go by himself, and he knew that.

 _Meet me out front of the school in ten breems._

I sat back down on my berth with a moan. I'd thought about this before, and had been looking forward to the freedom of traveling long-distance by myself, but not _yet._ I didn't think the general lack of things to crash into would prevent us from getting in trouble. Searchlight was very talented at finding trouble to get into.

I brought Ravage to Searchlight's room and tapped in the code.

Ratchet looked up from his desk when I came in. _Hmm... I wonder where Searchlight is..._ "Good orn."

"Can you watch Ravage?"

"No." _Why would I need to watch Ravage? What is he going to be doing? And I'm not a free babysitter._

"Please!" Ravage said, hopping off my shoulders onto Searchlight's desk. "Soundwave and Searchlight are going to be gone all orn."

"Where are you going?"

"Iacon," I said.

"Take Ravage with you, can't you? I thought that didn't cost an extra ticket."

"They can't take me, they're going to fly."

Ratchet froze. _They what?_

I stood in the doorway, waiting for him to start yelling, but he mastered himself.

"Fragging idiot, going to get himself offlined... whatever... I don't care."

He wasn't even going to try to help me talk Searchlight out of it? "Sure."

"I don't. Go have fun dying."

Ok then. I turned to walk away.

"Make sure you refuel before you go," Ratchet said. "If you run out, you actually _will_ offline."

That was a good point.

"And don't leave your death cat with me, I need to study."

I walked away. He didn't mind, and Ravage would get bored bothering him after a while.

I went to the energon hall and got a cube, which I swapped for an empty one and took with me. I was more self-confident than I'd been back when Searchlight had first shown up at the school, but I still didn't like listening to mecha watch me eat. I refueled in my room and then went outside to meet Searchlight.

He was talking to Breeze, who was none too certain about our proposed adventure.

"...could wait and do this in a quartex or so..."

"What else am I going to do all orn? Honestly, I don't see what's wrong with this."

Breeze crossed her arms, doorwings flicking nervously. "I thought you said you were done doing dangerous things."

"But... it's _not_ dangerous! There's not anything to crash into. If anything, this will be _boring_ because we're flying across the wasteland and there'll be nothing to see. We'll be _fine!_ Oh, there you are, 'Wave. Ready?"

I shrugged.

 _Soundwave, do something. Stop him._

I shrugged again.

"Come on," Breeze said.

"Nothing will happen," Searchlight insisted.

"Something _always_ happens."

"But I'll be fine. I always am."

Breeze relaxed a little. "I guess that's true. This isn't nearly as dangerous as the Sea of Rust. But I still think something will happen, because it's _you_."

"Yeah," Searchlight said. "But like I said, we'll be fine."

Breeze sighed. "Ok." _Honestly, I think I'm just jealous they can't take me with them._ "Well, don't die. And don't yell at me either, Searchlight, that's not nice."

"Sorry," Searchlight said. "Well... we'll see you this off-cycle. Ready, 'Wave?"

I nodded.

Searchlight transformed and I followed his lead. We left Breeze standing in front of the school, watching us go.

From the sky you could see the city laid out beneath with rocks and tiny pinprick mecha.

Searchlight commed me.

 _"Yeah?"_ I said.

 _"It's like a map."_

It _did_ kind of look like a map. " _Brilliant observation. I wonder why."_

There was a moment of hesitation. _"Right. I deserved that."_

He flew down closer to the tops of the buildings. It was like he was _trying_ to crash. I stayed a little higher, enjoying the feeling of being completely alone in my own helm.

It took a long time, it seemed, to get out of the sector, and the outer city. Not as long as the mass transit, though, and Searchlight couldn't play games on his datapad to pass the time, so he got bored pretty quickly, but other than that it was fine.

It was long and exhausting and Searchlight started to run low on fuel, but it was only about a joor and a half before we got to outer Iacon.

I was relieved and Searchlight tried not to be but he was just a little disappointed that nothing interesting had happened.

Searchlight's creators were surprised and happy to see him, though they were somewhat disapproving of our method of getting there.

We took Laserbeak and went to the park for a few joors, then went back to the symbiot shelter and spent time there. Keepsake insisted we leave with plenty of time to get home before sunset. She sent us to the apartment to get energon first, which was good because flying took a lot of fuel. Honestly, I'd rather have taken the mass transit back. I was tired already from flying here and Searchlight, who was less fuel efficient and also not as good at flying was even more so.

But we didn't want to use credit if we didn't have to. So we flew.

But we forgot to check the weather.

* * *

" _Do you think we could get_ above _the clouds?"_

I looked up at the heavy greenish-black clouds above us. _"We'd have to fly_ through _them."_

" _Yeah. Think we could do that?"_

" _No. We should land,"_ I said. I couldn't believe this. I'd started to think that for once we'd get lucky and nothing terrible would happen.

The first drops of rain stung my wings and I angled down toward the ground, looking for a cave or something.

" _You ok? The ground is flat so I don't think we'll fare better down there."_

" _Yes we will,"_ I replied as a gust of wind hit me, along with a spattering of acid rain.

" _Ok, I'm coming."_ Searchlight said.

He'd better be. Visibility dropped as the rain fell harder, but I thought I saw something in the distance that looked like a crack in the ground.

" _Can you follow me?"_

" _Whoa, I can barely see you and this wind is getting crazy."_

" _That's why we should land. But there might be a way down to the lower levels."_ I braced myself against the pain and kept flying. A low cloud of steam rose up to meet me, and I just barely realized how close I was to the ground in time to pull up and transform. I rolled to a stop, gasping and choking. _"Searchlight?"_

" _Scrap, where did you go?"_

" _The clouds below are right above the surface. Be careful not to crash."_

" _Got it."_

The rain was coming down in earnest now, and I could feel it eating away at my paint. I heard something crash nearby.

" _Searchlight?"_

No answer.

" _Searchlight, did you land?"_

" _Yes."_

Well, I didn't think we were going back to civilization any time soon. I stretched my range out until I could hear him, and started making my way toward him. He was struggling to his pedes, trying to cover his optics.

"Come on!" I said, and pulled him toward the darkness I'd seen. The rain lightened a little, but the wind got even stronger.

By the time we reached the chasm, the rain had picked up again, and unlike in the cities, there were no stairs going down.

"We'll have to jump!" Searchlight said.

I nodded, and let myself fall. I transformed and flew under an overhang. Searchlight followed me and crashed into the wall.

I sat against the wall, venting deeply, and playing with my sensory grid, trying to get rid of the burning sensation all over my frame.

Searchlight moaned and got up. The rain was still coming down, and pouring in from the edges of the chasm as well.

"Ow, everything hurts," he said. "Are you ok?"

I nodded.

"Ratchet's going to kill us."

I nodded again.

Searchlight got a comm. from Keepsake.

 _Actually… she might kill me before Ratchet does._ He answered. _"Hi."_

" _Searchlight, are you still flying home? You need to change course or seek shelter. I just found out there's an acid rain storm between Iacon and Kalis."_

" _We saw that,"_ Searchlight replied. _I'm glad this is an internal comm. Maybe I can play this off. "Don't worry, we've taken shelter. Do you know how long the storm's going to go?"_

" _All off-cycle. I'm so sorry, mechlings."_

 _We'll miss school tomorrow. Not going to complain about that. "Oh, really? Ok."_

" _You didn't get rained on, did you?"_

" _Nope,"_ Searchlight said. _"Don't worry, we're fine."_

Silence on the other end. Searchlight shuttered his optics, hoping she'd believe him.

 _"Ok. I'm glad you're all right."_

The burning in my vents intensified, and I started coughing, bracing myself against the ground.

 _On second thought, if I tell her, will they be able to get mecha out here to help us? We need to wash this acid off as soon as possible. If she got the right mecha involved, then maybe we could get an emergency groundbridge or something, but I don't want to worry her._

" _Stay safe. Do you have any energon?"_

Searchlight looked at me and I nodded. I had grabbed a couple of extra cubes from Keepsake and Cam's cupboard, just in case.

" _Yep, Soundwave has some."_

" _Ok, I'll check in in a few joors."_

" _We might end up deeper underground, where we won't get a signal,"_ Searchlight said. _"But don't worry, you know we can handle ourselves."_

" _Don't you dare go exploring and get lost."_

" _We won't." Get lost at least. And… maybe we shouldn't go exploring either. I feel like someone dropped me into a smelting pit._

" _Promise me."_

" _I promise, Keepsake."_

" _Ok."_

" _I'll talk to you soon."_

" _Bye."_ Searchlight cut the comm. and leaned on the wall. He'd gotten some acid in his optics and it was really hurting. I coughed some more before getting up. A gust of wind blew some rain in our direction.

"You get some in your vents?"

I nodded.

"Yikes. Ugh, we might not want to go exploring, but we've got to get somewhere with better shelter. Come on."

I followed him along the shelf we were on. We walked for a long time, trying to ignore the pain, and avoid the occasional shower of acid, until we came to a branching passageway that led deeper.

Searchlight led us down the passage a while before coming to a stop. He sat down against the wall with a groan. The bottoms of our pedes had been badly burned from the walk along that ledge where the rain had flooded the ground.

I leaned over, coughing more. Every vent was agony.

 _Well, this is great,_ Searchlight thought. _Can you die from acid burn? We were only out in the rain for a breem or so, but we were completely soaked._

"I don't think…" I gasped. "…I don't think we'll die."

 _I feel like I'm dying._ "Ok. We need to keep moving then."

"Why?" I was about ready to collapse.

 _Because I need something to take my mind off of this, and besides, maybe we can find some pool of something non-acidic that we can wash off in._

I sincerely doubted that, but sighed and nodded slightly.

He got up, gritting his denta, and kept going. _We need a light. I don't have anything for a light… but I think… do you see something glowing at the end of this tunnel?_

It did seem like there was some glow

We got to the end of the passage and found a deep, wide cavern, lit by glowing blue cracks in the distant ground.

"Wow," Searchlight said. "Want to go down there? We'd probably be pretty safe from the rain."

I coughed. "And… from Keepsake co-omming you."

"Well, that too. But I wonder where that light's coming from."

"The core?"

"Probably." Searchlight leaped off of the ledge and transformed to circle down toward the bottom. I followed him. The atmosphere rushing past my wings stung like rain, and I knew flying didn't feel really great for Searchlight either. We both managed to land without crashing this time, though.

Searchlight walked over to the nearest crack. "Wow," he said, kneeling by it. "Does this seem brighter than normal cave lighting?"

I shrugged. There were a lot of things that glowed down here.

Searchlight stood and looked around. There were passages going in all directions. The sounds of the rain were barely an echo all the way down here. He wondered where all those passages led.

I lay down on the ground. "Please don't."

"Ok," Searchlight said, and sat.

Silence fell, save for the distant sound of rain.

It lasted about three breems, and then I had to cough some more.

"You really don't sound good," Searchlight said. "Don't pass out on me or anything, mech."

I'd try not to.

Searchlight got up. _I won't leave the cavern, I just want to see if you can see anything down those passages._

I commed him. _"Ok."_

He walked away, limping slightly, but caring more about seeing the whole cavern than about his pedes hurting. He left my range and I was almost recharging when he commed me again.

"' _Wave, you aren't leaking are you?"_

" _What?"_

" _There's energon over here."_

What? I rolled over and slowly got to my pedes, then limped to the middle of the cavern, where Searchlight was. Sure enough, there were several drops of energon, and a small puddle as well.

"This looks fresh. I wonder…" _Is someone else down here? Is someone hurt? Who else would be down here?_

I sat by the energon. I should be curious too, but I just felt exhausted and the pain was making me dizzy.

"'Wave? Are you ok?"

"I do-on't… know."

 _Frag, it must be bad if he's stuttering._ He looked down at himself. _I'm feeling kind of weak too._ "If someone else is down here, maybe they can help us… or…" he looked at the energon. "Maybe they need help."

"Does it taste reprocessed?"

 _Good point._ Searchlight dipped his finger in the energon, and hesitantly tasted it. "I don't know" he said. "But it doesn't taste like normal energon." _I guess he can't try. He can't taste anything._

I shook my helm.

"You stay here," Searchlight said. "I'll see if I can find any other signs of mecha. Because we need help."

I nodded, and let him go, then curled up on the ground. Within a breem, I was unconscious.

* * *

"'Wave!"

I gasped, coming out of recharge with a start. A fresh wave of pain washed over me.

Searchlight sighed. _I was scared for a moment, I thought you were in stasis or something. I'm not leaving you behind again._

I checked my internal clock. It had been half a joor.

"Did you…"

He had gone exploring.

"Mech, I found something down one of the passages. Like scuff marks on the ground and the walls as if a bunch of mecha passed through here. And judging by the fresh energon here, they might not be too far off." _At least I think it looks like scuff marks. My vision's a little blurry because I got some acid in my optics._

I sat up, wincing.

"What if we've found a whole band of robbers or something?"

"Then… we're scrapped."

"Come on, let's go see if we can find anyone." He held out a hand and I let him pull me to my pedes. _If nothing else, maybe we can convince them to give us some solvent or something._

His paint was flaking off in large patches, and he was having a hard time venting as well. We walked down the dark passage, until we got to the place he'd been talking about. Sure enough, there were scuff marks, and what looked like the footprints of many mecha wherever there was dust.

"See?"

I nodded.

"Robbers."

I commed him because I didn't want to talk. _"Are you sure that's a possibility? Why would there be robbers way out here? There's no one to rob from."_

"It's where they hide their spoils, like in the holovids."

I shook my helm.

"And I bet they murdered someone back there, and hid the body."

" _Hid it from who?"_

"Play along, I'm trying to turn this into an adventure."

" _You're not helping."_ I leaned against the wall.

We came to a six-way intersection.

"Hmm…" Searchlight said. "Help me figure out which way they went." _Come on, mech. I know you're tired, but I don't think recharge will help. We need to find someone who can help us. I know it's probably not robbers, and I know this isn't an adventure, but I need you to keep going."_

I nodded and walked to the center of the intersection, studying the ground.

"This way," Searchlight said, and led us down one of the passages. Before long, we came to a four-way intersection, and took a direction that led us down a ramp to an eight way intersection.

Before long, we were completely lost. We tried to backtrack, but we must have gotten mixed up somewhere. Eventually, I'd had enough. I sat down in one of the passages and leaned against the wall, turning my screen off. Searchlight sighed and sat down across from me.

"Sorry," he said. "I thought we could find someone."

I shook my helm.

We sat for a few breems.

And then something impossible happened.

Someone came into my range.

I looked up. Searchlight noticed the motion and shot a questioning thought at me.

" _Someone's coming,"_ I said over the comm.

Someone who'd been following us, looking for us. Someone who didn't sound like he wanted to help us.

" _What?"_ Searchlight sat up straight. _"Are you serious?"_

I nodded, getting warily to my pedes and looking into the darkness of the passage we'd come down. I could see his glowing blue optics, and now that I was listening for it, I could hear his pedes hitting the ground.

Searchlight got up as well. _"Do they know we're here?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Friendly?"_

" _No."_

" _Great. Should we run?"_

 _"Maybe…"_ I said. _"…Yes."_

He was coming closer. He could see us too.

"Let's go," Searchlight said, and turned to run the other way. I followed, but the mech behind us started running too, chasing us. We made it to the nearest crossroads, but he was gaining ground, and I was barely staying on my pedes.

"Come on," Searchlight grabbed me and pulled me into the nearest passage. We crouched low to the ground, trying to stay in the shadows.

An enormous mech charged into the crossroads, and then stopped, pulling a staff from subspace. It had a glowing crystal at the end of it.

 _Which way did they go? I can't hear them running… I can hear venting, though. They're still here somewhere._

I stilled my vents and commed Searchlight to tell him to do the same. We might have trained, but both of us were weak, and I really didn't think we could take this mech in a fight.

 _If we jump him from behind…_

" _No, Searchlight."_

 _What have we got to lose?_

The mech spun and held out his glowing staff toward us. Searchlight got to his pedes and into a ready fighting stance. _I'll distract him and you can get away._

 _What?_ The mech narrowed his optics. _This is just a couple of mechlings… I thought it might be… I suppose they could have poisoned the spring._ "What are you doing here?" he asked sternly, and Searchlight straightened, recognizing the patterns on his paint.

"You're a nomad," he said.

The mech's expression didn't change. "Who are you?"

"We're just…" Searchlight glanced back at me, then looked up again. "We…" _Should I tell him the truth? Or is he still going to attack us?_

" _You can tell him."_

"What?" The nomad was even more suspicious now that we seemed to be having a private conversation.

"We're lost. We were flying to Kalis, but then the storm hit and we had to take shelter down here."

 _I don't believe them… though they do look like they were outside in the rain._

I got up, still leaning against the wall.

"Hmm…" the mech said. _I was hoping to find the poisoner, so we could figure out if there was an antidote…_ "Come with me."

Searchlight glanced at me. _Should we?_

We didn't really have a choice at this point. I shrugged.

 _That doesn't help._

Well, if I nodded and this turned out badly, then he'd blame me. The mech was significantly less hostile at this point, though he was still suspicious that we'd poisoned some sort of energon spring or something. And if he decided we were enemies, Searchlight and I were in trouble. He was _huge_ and he carried himself with grace and confidence that bespoke some sort of training.

He took a different passageway, and we followed him.

"So…" Searchlight said. "Where are we going?"

"Camp," The mech replied.

"There's a whole camp of you?"

"It would be foolish to travel alone," the mech said. _This mechling asks a lot of questions, while his friend is completely silent._

"So there really are nomads out here? I've heard you never go to cities. You think they're profane or something."

"No." _Not exactly._ "Each of us has his or her _own_ reasons for leaving society," The mech said. "And not all groups of nomads are the same." _Sometimes I do wonder how things have changed in the vorns I've been away. But I don't question my decision._

"Cool," Searchlight said. "What kind of reasons?"

 _He's a talker for certain… and the quiet one is falling behind._ He stopped and turned to wait for me to catch up.

"Sorry," I gasped, stumbling over to them.

 _He's not well… camp is several klicks away. I shouldn't make him walk._

 _You can lean on me,_ Searchlight thought.

I shook my helm. I didn't think he was strong enough for that right now.

 _My alt mode is too big for this passage. I can't carry them like that._ "Can you drive?"

"We're both fliers."

"Hmm…" The mech said again. "All right. Take this, and _please_ don't break it." He handed his staff to Searchlight, who held it carefully.

I realized I didn't have a choice in the matter, and let him pick me up and carry me. Searchlight leaned on the staff, and managed to keep up, though he was struggling. This mech's thoughts kept me online, though. He seemed old. Not as old as Yoketron, but several hundred vorns at least. His nomadic tribe had come to a liquid energon spring that had been poisoned, and they were still trying to figure out who and how. I picked up that someone had gotten sick because of it, and they were hoping to find a culprit and a cure.

I sincerely hoped that we'd be able to convince them we had nothing to do with it. Nomads were supposed to be peaceful, but if they were like this mech, they weren't defenseless. And they operated outside normal laws, mostly because there was no one to stop them. Either they'd help us, or we were going to be in a lot of trouble. But I was starting to think we'd be all right.

"You're probably hurting," the mech said. _I can feel the acid on this one. They must have been telling the truth about that rain._ "We have medics back at our camp who can help you."

"Thanks," Searchlight said.

"You're fortunate we were nearby, and that I found you."

"How did you know we were there?"

"The tunnels echo. When you're used to the way they sound, you can hear when something out of the ordinary happens in them. I wasn't sure because of the rain, but I thought I heard something, and went to investigate."

We came to a crossroads and the nomad led the way down one of the six passages.

"How do you find your way around this place?"

"There are patterns," the nomad said. "With Primus, there are always patterns."

I tilted my helm to the side slightly as he thought about the way the underground of the planet was constructed. This mech had been around the entire planet, in the shallow parts and the deep parts, and even down to the core itself.

"What…?"

"I have a few questions for you, first."

Searchlight sighed. "Ok."

"How old are you?"

"Um… almost five vorns."

"You're not even an adult. What were you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

"I live in Iacon, but go to school in Kalis," Searchlight explained. "My friend and I just got our alt modes, and I wanted to fly home for the orn. Getting there was fine. But we… didn't check the weather before we headed back."

The mech nodded thoughtfully.

I had another coughing fit and Searchlight looked up at me, worried. "I think he got some of the rain in his vents," he said. "Do you…?"

"He'll be all right," the nomad said.

Searchlight nodded as my coughing died down. _You know, he was terrifying at first, but now I'm glad we have this mech with us._

I had to agree. I probably wouldn't have been able to keep going much farther, and we'd been completely lost.

At the next intersection, Searchlight leaned against the wall, venting hard.

"Mechling?"

"I'm ok, I just need a break."

"I can take a tu-urn walking," I said quietly.

"No," Searchlight insisted. "I'm fine. Give me a breem."

The mech nodded and we waited for about half a breem before Searchlight got up again and we kept going. He was to the point of collapse when we finally came in sight of the camp. It was larger than Searchlight had expected. There were sixty or seventy—maybe even close to a hundred mecha.

A femme approached when she saw us coming.

I realized that my range was large enough to be a problem.

"What…?" the femme said. "So you _did_ hear something. Who is this?"

"Some mechlings."

"Vagabonds? They need new paint."

"They were out in the rain."

"Oh, Primus beneath," the femme said. "What are you dragging them all over the place for? You should have contacted us! Bring them, quickly…is that one conscious?"

I nodded, and shifted, and the big nomad set me down, and took his glowing staff to subspace it. He supported Searchlight as we walked toward the camp, and the femme ducked under my arm to help me. Others called out to us and came over to find out what was going on. They didn't see outsiders very often.

Another femme—this one a medic—joined us before long, and had us brought to a temporary shelter. I listened as the news of our arrival spread around the camp. Our rescuer stood outside the shelter we were in and got tired very quickly of answering questions. The others stopped bothering him after a few breems, recognizing his mood.

All of these mecha knew each other very well. Some of them had been traveling together for hundreds of vorns.

The medic scanned me. I was feeling dizzy because of the number of mecha in my processor.

"Hmm…" she said. "You'll be all right, you're covered in acid burn. Both of you were out in the rain, were you? Foolish mechlings. Who do you belong to? When the storm's over, we'll have to get you back home."

"We'll be able to get back home on our own," Searchlight said as she scanned him.

"Your optics are damaged." _Not badly. I should be able to fix them with what I have._

Searchlight frowned.

"But your friend is hurt worse." She turned back to me, and helped me sit up so she could access my sensory grid. "Mechling, you need to rest while I work. Will you trust me enough to let me put you into stasis?"

I hesitated, then nodded. She didn't mean us any harm. I relaxed as she turned off my pain receptors and started shutting me down. Being forced into stasis was frightening, and it was hard not to fight it, but after a few astroseconds, I let my systems go offline.

When I regained consciousness, my range was a little smaller, but still too big. I didn't hurt, but that was partly because my pain settings were still very low. Searchlight was sitting outside with some of the nomads, asking them questions and listening to them tell stories. The medic sat on the ground nearby, meditating. She un-shuttered her optics when I sat up.

She was also very old, and I found myself wondering what it was about this life that allowed mecha to live so long without fading.

"Welcome back to the land of the online," she said. "Feel better?"

I nodded.

She pulled a crystal container full of energon out of subspace and handed it to me. "Drink this and then you can go reassure your chatty friend that you're all right."

I hesitated, feeling uncomfortable, but I knew she wasn't going to let me leave without drinking it, so I opened the port in my shoulder and poured it in. She watched thoughtfully. _Well, that's a sloppy way to resolve that issue. And I suppose the replacement for his faceplate is alright, but he's got some strange things going on with his helm—processor, voice, box, everything… whoever repaired him after whatever took his faceplate from him must have been a very poor medic._

The events surrounding the accident that had killed my creators were one of the few things Crescent had been successful in keeping from me, so I didn't know much about the medic who'd saved my life.

Also, no medic had ever been able to find anything wrong with my voice box before.

"Well, run along."

I wanted to ask her about it, but she hadn't said it out loud, and she was now just annoyed and wanted me to leave so she could keep meditating.

"Thank you," I said.

Her expression softened. "You're very welcome, mechling," she said. _The other one thanked me as well. These are good fledglings. Sometimes I worry about the way they raise their creations in those city-states, but I suppose good mecha can be found everywhere._

I left and went to go join Searchlight. He made room for me and I sat down next to him. A mech in the circle got up and went to go inform whoever was in charge that I was online again.

"…And then I… oh, welcome," the mech who'd been talking said. "It's good to meet you."

I nodded.

The big mech who'd found us came over as well, though he didn't join the circle.

"Are you well, mechling?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Thank you." A lot of my paint was gone—it had probably come off when they'd cleaned the acid off of me. And if it weren't for my pain grid being turned down, I'd probably hurt. But my vents felt clearer, and that energon felt good in my tanks.

The mech smiled slightly and nodded to me before leaving. Something had been nagging in the back of my processor about him, but it wasn't until he thought about it that I realized what it was. A lot of these mecha reminded me a little of Yoketron. It was because they'd spoken to Primus. The mech who'd helped us, that medic femme, and the mech Searchlight had been engaged in conversation with.

Everyone watched as the large mech walked away.

Searchlight turned to me. _'Wave, these mecha are crazy awesome. They just wander around Cybertron, exploring and mapping and watching as things change over the centivorns. I mean… part of me thinks that's amazing, and another part thinks it would be processor-numbingly boring, but either way it's awesome._

The mech who'd been talking to Searchlight leaned forward, studying me with bright optics. "What's your designation, friend?"

"Soundwave," I said.

"Are you from Iacon too?"

"No, Kalis," I said.

 _I wonder what happened to his faceplate. It would probably be rude to ask._

"Do you like it there?" someone asked

"Have you traveled anywhere else?" another put in.

 _They did this to me too. You don't like questions, though. Maybe I can…_

I shrugged. "I've traveled a little," I said quietly. The fact that I had too many mecha in my processor certainly wasn't helping me feel less overwhelmed.

… _change the subject._ "Hey," Searchlight said. "Who is that mech?" he jerked his helm toward our retreating rescuer. "The one who saved us."

"Oh him?" A femme across the circle said. "Fortress Maximus. He's a good mech—we're sorry if he scared you, he can be a little intimidating."

"Yeah," Searchlight said. "A little.. you know, he said something on our way here," Searchlight said. "He told me you all have different reasons for being here. I'm curious…"

Mecha glanced at each other, thinking about their reasons. It was true they were varied. Some had run from society, some had been pushed away. Some had come seeking something and had found it here.

"A lot of us, including Fort Max himself, came to get away from government corruption," the mech on the other side of me said. "Instead of conforming to the injustices of society, we decided to leave, and follow Primus's paths instead."

There was general nodding.

"I came seeking enlightenment," the mech who'd been talking to Searchlight before said. "Or at least… further enlightenment. I'd recently found out for myself just how real Primus was, and I needed to be around other mecha who believed the way I do." He looked at me and I saw him notice that Primus had spoken to me as well.

 _They're also super religious,_ Searchlight thought at me. _And some of them are probably actually crazy._

He didn't understand. There was something peaceful about them—about this way of life. I couldn't feel it, because there was too much commotion in my helm, but I could feel them feel it. They were close to each other, and close to Cybertron itself.

A couple of mecha came over. "Come with us," one of them said. "Our leader would like to speak with you."

Searchlight and I got up and left the group, who waved at us, hoping we'd come back and talk when we were done, though some of them seemed to think we'd be talking to their leader for a long time.

Their leader was sitting outside the camp, also meditating. Fortress Maximus was there too, to stand guard, and also to tell his side of the story.

The leader of these nomads was old like Yoketron was old, and he felt it even more than our Circuit-Su master. He didn't move until we were already right next to him. And then he waved for us to sit down in front of him.

The two who'd brought us left and it was just the four of us.

"Welcome, mechlings," the old mech said. "You are fortunate we were nearby. Are you well?"

"Yes," Searchlight said. "Thank you very much for your help."

He nodded. "What are your designations?"

"I'm Searchlight, this is Soundwave," Searchlight said.

"Good to meet you both. I am Dai Atlas, and we are the Circle of Light."

Searchlight nodded.

"You are free to stay with us for as long as you like," Dai Atlas said. "We are not currently going the direction of Kalis, but we can send you with some guides if you need to find your way…"

"We're both fliers," Searchlight said. "We can get home, as soon as the storm's over."

Dai Atlas nodded. "Perhaps you'll stay a few decaorns anyway."

 _Decaorns… Frag, no. Breeze and Ratchet and my creators are probably worried sick already. They'd be sending out search parties if we disappeared for decaorns. And we'd be really behind on classwork. This is a good excuse for missing one orn, but missing decaorns…_ "We'd like to, but we have to get back to school and… you know."

Dai Atlas nodded. _I forget how busy their world is. It isn't healthy. We have all this time in which to live and experience, and yet they burn themselves out so quickly by rushing around..._ "That is all right."

"Is there anything we can do to repay you for your kindness?" Searchlight said.

"Yes," Dai Atlas replied. "At least, there may be. Perhaps some of them told you, but we traverse this globe, navigating between natural springs of energon. There is one very near here, but many levels beneath the surface. And… it has been poisoned. When Fortress Maximus first saw you he thought you might have something to do with it. Do you know anything about this? Do you know anything that could have caused it?"

Searchlight looked at me, and I shook my helm.

"No," Searchlight said. "I didn't even know there _was_ an energon spring anywhere near here. We were really just passing through and had to seek shelter from the storm."

 _He seems truthful. I will believe them._ "Well, thank you in any case. I've found that knowledge often comes from the least likely of sources," Dai Atlas said.

"You were far from any exits when I found you," Fortress Maximus said. "You wandered after leaving the surface. Did you see anything out of the usual?"

"Well…" Searchlight said. "I don't think so, except… there was some energon on the ground in this big cavern… possibly somewhere you and your mecha stayed in the past, because it was near where we first saw your footprints."

"Hmm…"

"It tasted weird. Like that energon your medic gave me."

Dai Atlas and Fortress Maximus looked at each other.

"Probably nothing," Fortress Maximus said. "We did set up camp last decaorn back in that direction. Someone could have spilled their energon and failed to clean it up."

"Everything bears investigation at this point," Dai Atlas said. _I'm deeply troubled. I would like for there to be some sort of simple explanation, like someone poisoning the spring. If the poison came up_ with _the energon, then the problem may go as deep as the Core. But the Core can't be poisoned..._ "Thank you, Searchlight and Soundwave."

Searchlight nodded.

"You may return to the others if you want," Dai Atlas said. "Unless you have any questions or requests."

"We… wouldn't want to bother you, sir," Searchlight said. _He seems really old and stuffy. He sounds like he might just start spouting religious nonsense if we keep talking to him. I wonder if he's older than Master Yoketron... but I don't know if asking him how old he is would be polite. Maybe I can ask one of the others._

Dai Atlas looked at me. _This one has spoken to Primus… that is strange. Primus has spoken very little of late._ "Soundwave, may I ask you a question in private?"

I nodded, then turned to Searchlight and nodded to him as well. He went back toward the light and conversation of the group.

Fortress Maximus hesitated, but Dai Atlas stood, and suddenly, though he still felt very old, he no longer seemed frail in any way. "Fortress Maximus, I can see you are concerned, but I'm certain I will not be in danger. You may remain here. Come, mechling. Walk with me."

We walked away from the camp, for which I was very grateful.

Dai Atlas waited until we were out of hearing range of everyone else, and then turned, so we were going in a wide circle around their camp.

"How old are you, Soundwave?"

"Almost five vorns," I said.

"That is remarkable," Dai Atlas said, studying me carefully. _There's something else familiar about him… I'm not sure what…_ "Do you know why that is remarkable?"

I shook my helm, though I _did_ know.

"Very few mecha in the last three decavorns have heard Primus's voice."

I nodded. Then I looked up, realizing that if anyone could explain that to me, Dai Atlas could. "I… have a question about that."

"You may ask it."

"I… I had climbed to the top of a cliff, and there were these pillars… I had…" I remembered why I'd never asked anyone about this. It was hard to separate the story from my abilities. "My hands were scraped up and I'd lost part of a finger… While I was up there I heard a voice. All it said was "sparkling" but after it spoke, the pillars started to sink back in, and my hands were healed. I never understood it."

Dai Atlas frowned.

"Do you know what those pillars were?"

 _The pillars? Yes, but this is still baffling._ "Primus created this world not simply to be our home, but to be his frame. He protects and cares for us. Certain things move and shift, keeping us in alignment with the sun, allowing atmosphere to penetrate and circulate through the center of the planet, moving rust and debris and draining away the acid rain so that we have a clean place on which to dwell. Is this no longer common knowledge?"

I shook my helm. "They don't teach it in schools." Some mecha didn't even believe Primus existed. Crescent didn't think about it much, and I had to admit I'd questioned once or twice.

"Hmm…" Dai Atlas said. _I wonder what they_ do _teach then. But this is intriguing…_ "I am more interested in why Primus chose to speak to you."

"I don't know," I said.

 _There must be something. He does not act without a reason._ "There is no shame in that. There are many things _I_ do not know. Probably at the end of my life, there will be more things I don't know than things I do. That is the way of existence—there is always more to learn." _Troubling things are happening. Energon wells poisoned, mecha losing the knowledge of Primus. It is as if our great creator is fading… though I can hardly dare to think that might be the case._ "Keep this question in your processor," Dai Atlas said. "Keep searching for an answer. Primus speaks rarely these cycles. You must have some significance, some role to play."

I looked down. All things considered, I'd rather _not_ have a significant role to play in the grand scheme of things. I had enough problems already.

We made a full circuit of the camp, and I listened to Dai Atlas talk about Primus and Cybertron and the universe. There was something good about this group of mecha—something peaceful. If there weren't so many of them, I'd be tempted to join them. I was certain they'd welcome me.

Once we'd come back to where Fortress Maximus was waiting, Dai Atlas stopped.

"Thank you for speaking with me," the ancient mech said. "You may return to your friend. If you are to leave us next orn, then the both of you must rest before your journey."

"Thank you," I said, then nodded to Fortress Maximus, who returned the gesture approvingly. I wandered back toward the rest of the group where—true to form—Searchlight was now the center of attention.

One of the friendlier mechs he'd been talking to before was teaching him how to fight with a staff, while half of the camp watched excitedly. They'd cleared out a big circle for them to move around in, and everyone was calling out advice and encouragement. I sat with the rest and watched. After a while one of the older femmes came over and told everyone off for making so much noise, insisting that mecha were trying to get some recharge before they had to break camp and move the next orn.

Searchlight and his new friend walked over to me as everyone dispersed, talking animatedly.

"You're very good for your age," the other mech said.

"Are you kidding me?" Searchlight replied. "I was on the ground more often than I was on my pedes."

"But you have talent, and wonderful form—you just need fifty more vorns of practice."

Searchlight shook his helm. "Are you serious?"

The mech laughed. _The staff probably isn't this mechling's weapon anyway. He has the strength for it, but he's not conservative enough._

"Hey, 'Wave," Searchlight said, sitting down next to me with a sigh. "What did you talk with that old mech about?"

I shrugged. "Universe nonsense."

Searchlight nodded. "I thought as much." _I learned some cool new tricks. I wonder if Yoketron can fight with a staff—do you think he'd teach me some different weapons if I asked him?_

I shrugged again.

"Universe nonsense?" Searchlight's friend said, somewhat offended. "Our leader is very wise. I'm sure whatever he said…"

"Soundwave didn't mean to be disrespectful," Searchlight said. "Honest. It's just an inside joke."

"Ok," the mech said. "Well, in any case, I'm sure you're tired, and you should rest before you leave next orn."

"Yeah," Searchlight said. "I guess."

"Come, I'll find…" he trailed off as the medic from before came over, looking somewhat cross.

"I want those two near my tent this off-cycle, just to make sure," she said. "And far away from you, Wing. You'll keep them up all off-cycle with your ceaseless chatter."

Searchlight smirked a little. _I think Ratchet would get along pretty well with this femme, don't you?_

I was grateful I didn't have a facial expression because I wouldn't have been able to contain a smile.

"Ok, ok," the mech said good-naturedly, and swung his staff up across his shoulders. "Recharge well, all right?" He called over his shoulder as he walked away.

* * *

I didn't recharge well. My range was too large, and the pain kicked in before it shrank small enough that it wasn't so much of a problem. But I didn't want to raise questions about why I needed to rest far away from everyone else, so I didn't say anything.

I did manage to shut down for a little while, but not nearly long enough, and by the time the camp started to get up, I had a bad processor ache.

They insisted that we stay a little longer, so the medic could make sure we were all right. She wasn't very pleased with the fact that I had a processor ache, and made me promise to have one of "those useless city medics" take some proper scans and find out what was wrong when I got back.

Searchlight went around and said goodbye to the friends he'd made, many of whom gave us directions about how to get back to the surface, and a few who even offered to take us there. But it wasn't too complicated, and I'd been able to develop maps just from listening to various mecha think about what route we should take. There were even a couple of good shortcuts since we were fliers.

The sun had risen by the time we reached the surface of Cybertron. Searchlight commed Keepsake first to let her know we were ok, and then we flew all the way back to Kalis. By then, I was definitely not up for going to class. I needed to go make sure my symbiots were all right. Ratchet would probably have remembered to feed them, but I wanted to make sure, and they were probably worried about me.

Even though classes had already started, Ratchet and Breeze were waiting in my room.

"What the _pit_ did you _do?"_ Ratchet demanded as soon as we came in. "Recharge all off-cycle in the _rain?_ "

"No," Searchlight said. "We found a camp of nomads to hang out with."

Ratchet glared at him. _I am not in the mood to put up with your sarcasm._

 _He looks skeptical._ "No really," Searchlight said. "We found a camp of nomads and they took us in. We met their leader, Dai Atlas…"

" _What?_ " Ratchet said. "He's not real… I mean, even if he was, he'd be more than a thousand vorns old."

"Yeah," Searchlight said. "That's possible. Master Yoketron's that old."

Ratchet shook his helm. "You and your fragging stories."

"I'm telling the truth! Tell him, Soundwave."

I shrugged. "We met Dai Atlas."

Ratchet stared at me. "This is some sort of joke. You _actually…._ You _actually_ tried to cross the uninhabited lands in between Iacon and Kalis during an acid rain storm and _actually_ ended up getting rescued by an old historical folk tale and his band of nomads?" _I can't believe this. He's got to be joking._

"Well, unless they were all lying about who they were," Searchlight said.

"Maybe you were hallucinating," Ratchet grumbled. _That is not fair. I can't even imagine… that mech is supposed to know_ everything.

"Their medic was kind of crabby," Searchlight said. "Reminded me of you, actually."

Ratchet glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"And if I was hallucinating, then why isn't there any acid on me?" Searchlight asked. "I mean…" he looked down. "There's not much paint either."

"You two should probably do something about that before you go to class," Breeze said. "And Searchlight, why didn't you comm. me when you got back to the surface? We were worried sick. Fortunately, Keepsake let me know once you'd talked to her, but..."

"Oh, sorry," Searchlight said. "I totally forgot."

Breeze glared at him. _He forgot that I might be concerned about him spending an off-cycle out in an acid rain storm?_

 _Everyone's always upset at me._ Searchlight glanced at me. _Why are they never mad at you? You could have remembered to let Breeze and Ratchet know we were all right._

Ravage jumped up onto my shoulders, and I had to grab the doorframe to steady myself. I needed to get some actual recharge now that my range was back to normal.

"Well, I'm going to class," Ratchet said. "As long as neither of you are hurt."

"Nope. The nomad medic repaired us," Searchlight said. "So we're fine."

Ratchet turned his glare on me. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. "Tired," I said.

"Then get some recharge!" Ratchet stormed out of my room and down the hall. _Idiots. Nomads, caves, acid rain—I_ told _them it wasn't a good idea to go flying all the way to Iacon so soon after getting their alt modes._

Breeze left as well, glaring over her shoulder at Searchlight. _At least they're ok. No one got badly hurt. I almost wish I could have been there for the nomads, though. That sounds like it was really interesting._

I shut my door and Ravage hopped off of me onto my berth and looked up at me, tail flicking.

"I'm sorry," I said, before he could complain about being worried.

He deflated a little. _Next time I won't let him go without taking me._

I shook my helm, and lay down on the berth.

Next time, I'd take the mass transit.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Yeah, so in my headcanon, the city-states don't cover the entire face of the planet. There's a _lot_ of empty wilderness, and there are a whole bunch of nomadic tribes who wander around between the cities. They survive off of energon springs and the like. I decided to make the Circle of Light one of them. :)

2\. Also, I'm pretty sure Fort Max isn't canonically part of the Circle of Light, but I kind of wanted him to be, because I thought he'd make an awesome nomad. He'll join the Autobots later, after the war starts.


	11. One Shall Stand (MV 68-69)

Introduction: This scene contains SPOILERS so if you should read through Many Voices chapter 68 before you read this.

I'm serious.

You have been warned.

This happens all the way back in chapter 47 of Many Voices, chronologically, which is the chapter when Searchlight disappeared.

* * *

"Bring him online."

Senator Ratbat stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching as the young mech's optics lit up. The mech blinked and tried to sit, but stopped struggling once he realized the restraints weren't going to give. He glared at Ratbat.

"Good orn," Ratbat said.

The prisoner was silent.

"I'll spare you the formalities," Ratbat said. "You have one more chance to beg my forgiveness."

The prisoner stared evenly, unflinchingly at the senator, and didn't speak a word. No one would have thought he was afraid.

"Silent all of a sudden, aren't you? You weren't silent on the Council floor. Come now, speak up, mechling. Surely you have something to say."

"I'm sorry I made a scene about it," the prisoner said. "But I will not take back what I said. And I wouldn't beg you for mercy, not if Primus personally commanded me to."

"I can add blasphemy to your list of crimes."

"You can add anything you want to my list of crimes, can't you _Senator_? That's one of the perks of being a tyrant, isn't it?"

Ratbat frowned. "Do you know what I'm going to do with you?"

"What, you aren't going to execute me? Isn't insulting your pride punishable by death?"

Ratbat leaned in closer. "Do you remember what I told you when we spoke last time? That I would make sure you were never heard from again?"

The prisoner glared.

"I'm going to wipe your memories."

Silence fell on the room, thick and heavy.

"Everything," Ratbat said. "Your friends, your creators, all of it will be gone. And then I'll send you somewhere to live out the rest of your orns. Somewhere appropriately remote. A factory maybe, or the mines."

The prisoner shuttered his optics, then opened them again.

And smiled.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

Ratbat glared. "Brave words…"

"No, you can do whatever you want to me. Break me, kill me, make me disappear. And you can do it to the next mech who stands up to you too. And the next. And the next. But it won't matter. In the end, there will be _someone_ who you can't arrest, _someone_ who you can't silence."

Ratbat backed away. "Do it."

"Yes sir," the assistant said. He brought out a computer console on wheels.

"And that orn, it won't matter what you did to me. Because you'll fall, and that's all _I_ care about! That's…"

The assistant opened a port in the back of the prisoner's head and plugged a cable into it. The prisoner's rant ended in a hiss of pain.

"I'll put him into stasis now," the assistant said.

"No. Leave him conscious."

The assistant hesitated, but didn't question. He plugged the other end of the cable into a small, round device, and then plugged various lines from the computer into the device. The prisoner seemed to feel them, twitching every time a new cord was connected.

The assistant went to the computer console, and started hitting buttons.

"Initiating preliminary scans," he said. "Scanning…"

The prisoner's hands made fists, and he shuttered his optics, as if he were bracing himself for something.

"…complete. Initiating memory wipe on your command, sir."

Ratbat nodded. "Now."

The assistant hit a button on the screen. The prisoner gasped, engine suddenly running full power. He seemed to lose control of his systems, and he struggled against the restraints, optics wide. He screamed.

Eventually, though his engine quieted, his venting slowed, and his expression lost all of the determination. He was a vacant, empty shell.

"Memory wipe complete."

"Put him in stasis," Ratbat said. "And… send him to Kaon. He can work in the mines there."

"Yes, sir."

Ratbat left the underground facility, and headed back toward the Council Hall, pleased with himself. The mechling could rant and make empty threats all he liked, but he'd be offline within a decaorn.

No one could stand up to the Iacon Council.


	12. Life Debt (MV 72)

Introduction: This happens during the first half of Many Voices chapter 72, not too long before Jazz shows up.

* * *

Ratchet woke to someone banging on the door. Not the entry request—someone knocking. What the pit? He sat up, feeling groggy, and checked his chronometer. It was the middle of the off-cycle. Wonderful. Maybe someone else would get the door. Would they hear it, though, from all the way upstairs?

What if it was the enforcers?

It didn't sound like that, though.

What if it was someone who needed help? Sometimes sick or injured mecha showed up asking him to repair them. He knew some of the others didn't like him using Autobot's precious resources to hand out free medical care, but Autobot was about helping other mecha, and by Primus, he was going to _help_ them.

He moaned as he got up and stumbled through Perceptor's dark house. He turned on lights as he went, grumbling to himself. "Can't mecha slagging need our help during normal business joors? I'm never going to catch up on recharge like this…." But the thought of waking up the next orn to find some poor mech offline on the front steps… as unlikely as it was, Ratchet couldn't shake the idea from his processor.

He got to the front door and opened it. "What in the pits of Kaon do you want?"

"Please…" the mech standing on the front porch said. "Is this…"

"Oh, Primus…" Ratchet said. "Inside!"

The mech's arm ended in a dripping stump, and he seemed barely able to stand up. Ratchet analyzed him for more injuries and found several deep-looking dents in various places and a gash on his leg that was also leaking. He was moving like he had internal injuries too. Primus, what had _happened_ to this mech?"

The mech stumbled in the door and braced himself against the wall with his one remaining hand. From the expression on his faceplate he was in a lot of pain, but his optics were focused and steady. "There's a medic here, right? And you have a groundbridge?"

"What?"

"The medic," the mech said. "I need the medic and the groundbridge."

"I'm the medic," Ratchet said. "Come on, I'll fix your arm, what the frag did you do to it?"

"No, no," the mech shook his helm. "No, I'm ok, it's not me."

"What?" Ratchet snapped.

* * *

-a few joors earlier-

* * *

"It did _not_ cost that much to enter last time," Sideswipe said. "If you keep trying to cheat us we'll take our skills elsewhere."

"I'm sorry," the mech said. "If you would like to sign a contract with us, then there wouldn't be an entrance fee."

So that's what this was about. This mech wanted them to sign away their souls.

"We're not signing a contract," Sunstreaker said. "We already told you that. Like my brother said, we can find some other way to make credit."

"Well, this is the way it goes," the mech said. "You pay the entrance fee, you fight. If you win, you still get more than ten times the credit you paid to enter. Unless you sign a contract, and then you fight for free, and we provide you with as much credit as you need, as well as free housing, medical care, and various other things. If you don't want to sign a contract, you have to pay the entrance fee. If you don't want to do either, then feel free to leave, like you've threatened. There are plenty of mecha lining up to fight."

Not very many of them had been offered contracts, though. They only offered you a contract if you were really good. Of course, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had no intention of signing a contract. It wouldn't just mean the end of paying entrance fees, it would mean the end of freedom. They would have to be gladiators for the duration of the contract—which was usually something like twenty vorns. And considering the average life span of gladiators was significantly less than that… something like three quarters of a vorn from the time you signed up…

In any case, a contract was a life sentence. Or a death sentence, depending on how you looked at it.

Sideswipe looked at Sunstreaker, and his brother met his gaze with an uneasy expression on his faceplate. Sideswipe could tell that Sunny wanted to back out. But they were getting too close to running out of credit. Their last windfall had been almost a quartex ago when Sunny had sold a painting. They needed more for energon and for transportation. They had to keep moving, because they were pretty sure Quantum was still looking for them, even after all this time.

"Ok," Sideswipe said. "We'll pay the stupid fee."

He handed over a data chip which the mech inserted into his datapad, then pulled out again. "There you are. Wait in room 5. We'll call you out when it's time."

Sideswipe nodded. They'd been here enough times that they knew their way around pretty well. They walked to the smallish room to wait. Sideswipe stretched. So far, they'd had pretty good luck, and they'd managed to win all of their fights. They were pretty much unstoppable. Of course, this wasn't a _real_ gladiator ring, where they _only_ had contracted mecha. Part of Sideswipe wanted to try to get into something a little more intense, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. And they could make enough credit to live off of if they just came here every few quartexes.

"I don't like this," Sunstreaker said.

"Yeah?"

"He was looking at us weird."

"You think everyone's looking at you weird," Sideswipe said. Sunstreaker was ridiculous. He spent so much time polishing and painting and perfecting himself, and then he got all defensive when he thought mecha were staring at him.

"No, I mean it," Sunstreaker said. "Something's not right."

Sideswipe sighed. "We already paid the fee… so we're practically broke…and I don't think he'll give us a refund…but if you really think something's up, we can back out."

"No," Sunstreaker said. "I would have earlier, but it's too late now. Just be careful."

Sideswipe nodded.

* * *

The mech they were up against was big and fast. He had a long, hooked blade, and another weapon—a spiked club with spinning parts—like a cross between a mace and a chainsaw.

But there was only one of him. One opponent was no match for the twins. Sideswipe dodged under the club and shot the mech in the side, while Sunstreaker came in from the other side.

The mech's armor absorbed Sideswipe's blast, and he parried Sunstreaker's blade with his own. But it was only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time.

The fight continued. The mech kept ahead of them, barely dodging. Sideswipe managed to get a nasty cut on his leg, which the crowd cheered for.

He knew most of them were probably rooting for the other mech. His weapons looked custom-made—he was probably a contracted gladiator.

The fight dragged on. The twins got in a few lucky hits, but nothing that really weakened their opponent. Of course, he didn't manage to injure the twins much either, though his club glanced off of Sunstreaker's shoulder once. Sideswipe could tell it was painful, but Sunstreaker didn't seem to care. He was definitely still worried about something, though.

After a little while longer, Sideswipe realized what was wrong. Their opponent wasn't fighting on the offensive. He was just defending, using as little energy as possible.

And the twins were wasting all their strength attacking this mech, who seemed to have no trouble blocking them.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker backed away at the same time, and stood across the arena from their opponent. The crowd shouted their disappointment. This fight hadn't been gory enough. They wanted more energon on the ground.

Sideswipe didn't take his optics off of their opponent, but he was pretty sure Sunstreaker was thinking the same thing he was. They needed to take this mech down quickly, or they were going to get tired and start making mistakes.

They couldn't lose. They needed the credit.

They attacked.

This time, the other mech didn't defend. He attacked too. His club transformed into a heavier, but smooth weapon, and he swung. Sideswipe went flying. He hit the wall of the arena and fell to his knees as all his systems reset.

He looked up just in time to see Sunstreaker go down. The mech's blade pinned him to the ground and then the club swung in, now back to the spinning spikes mode.

The grinding sound it made when it met the yellow twin's frame was drowned out after a moment by Sunstreaker's scream.

No.

Sideswipe felt it like the club was tearing into his own chassis.

He cried out as some force of rage and desperation sent him sprinting back toward the fight. He scooped his fallen brother's blade from the ground and with another scream, he charged and swung. The other mech raised his blade to block Sideswipe's but Sideswipe's blade hit the mech's arm instead and severed his hand.

The other gladiator cried out and stumbled back, leaving his hooked blade on the ground. Sideswipe picked it up in his free hand and stood between his opponent and his brother.

Sunstreaker was leaking heavily, and barely conscious. Sideswipe felt the darkness of stasis tugging on him too, but protective protocols overpowered it.

The other mech charged at him, club swinging. Sideswipe stood his ground. His processor was clear. He waited. He needed to take his opponent by surprise again.

At the last second, he dropped both swords and attacked. He blocked the mace with one hand, ignoring the pain as it shredded his fingers, and shifted his other hand into a gun, which he brought to his opponent's helm and fired.

The mech screamed as part of his faceplate was blown away, and they crashed to the ground with Sideswipe on top.

Sideswipe got up and backed away, gun still trained on the mech in case he got up again.

But he didn't. They had won.

Sideswipe turned and hurried over to kneel in the pool of energon that was spreading around his brother. Sunstreaker was still conscious—barely.

"Sides…."

"You're going to be ok," Sideswipe said. "We'll find you a medic, come on…" He reached under his brother, trying to ignore the pain from his shredded, useless hand.

"Don't forget…" Sunstreaker said. "The credit."

They'd come back and demand it after Sideswipe was satisfied that Sunstreaker wasn't going to offline. He glanced at his brother's sword on his way out of the arena—but there was no way he could pick it up. Sunny would just have to forgive him about that.

The door opened and mecha flowed in to go tend to the twins' opponent. They'd probably be able to save him too, though he might have some processor damage. Sideswipe didn't care.

Out in the hallway, Sunstreaker's optics shuttered and Sideswipe felt stasis closing in for both of them.

"Hang in there," he said. "Sunny, you're going to knock me out. Wake up."

Sideswipe stumbled and Sunstreaker's optics shot open again. "Sorry…" he gasped.

Sideswipe stood. There were three mechs blocking their way. Two security guards and the mech who they'd talked to before the fight.

"Oh, hey," Sideswipe said. "Well, it looks like we won. I'm going to have to come back for the credit, though. Mind getting out of the way?"

The mech smiled.

The guards stepped past him.

Sideswipe took a step backward and someone grabbed him from behind. He cried out as they pulled Sunstreaker away from him, and then pinned him against the wall.

"What are you doing!" he demanded.

"Bring them," the mech said.

"You can't do this! Let us go!"

"I'll let you go," the mech said. "Don't worry."

Sideswipe struggled, but he was injured and weakened.

They were taken to an empty room. They stasis-cuffed Sideswipe to the wall by his shredded hand and dumped Sunstreaker on the floor next to the opposite wall.

Sideswipe glared at the smug-looking mech standing in the doorway. "What is this!" he demanded.

"It's really too bad your brother was injured," the mech said. "Isn't it?"

"Let us go."

"You know, if you sign a contract with us, we can get him some medical attention."

Sideswipe just stared at him for an astrosecond, as he realized what was going on. "You…" he said. "You fragging cheater! You set this up! You…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the mech said. "I'm just making you an offer. You're free to go if you want. I'll even leave the door unlocked for you…"

"I'm chained to the fragging wall!" Sideswipe said.

The mech ignored him and unsubspaced a datapad. "I will leave this here for you. If you sign the contract, I'll be notified and, as soon as everything's agreed and legalized, we'll let you see a medic. The process can be a little lengthy, so I wouldn't wait too long to get started." He set the datapad down in Sideswipe's reach and turned to leave.

"Hey wait!" Sideswipe pulled out the data chip that he'd used to pay the mech earlier. "We won! You owe us!"

The mech snorted, but sent the guards in to take the chip from Sideswipe and bring it to him. He plugged it into his personal datapad, then tossed it back at Sideswipe. "Contracted mecha make a lot more, you know," he said, and left. The guards followed and the door closed behind them. Sideswipe scooped up the data chip and checked to see that the credit was on it.

Then he reached for Sunstreaker, but his brother was too far away, and the stasis cuffs pulled on his shredded hand. He sank to his knees, venting hard, trying to ignore the pain.

The datapad lay on the floor. The mech's words echoed in his audios. Sign a contract. Sell themselves as slaves. Spend the rest of their lives fighting for their lives.

But Sunstreaker was going to die if Sideswipe didn't do it.

The yellow mech's engine whined, and Sunstreaker gasped and coughed, then lay still and tense, venting in quick, shallow gasps.

Sideswipe needed to get to him. He reached out again, but the pain from his hand brought him up short. He couldn't reach anyway.

"Sunny!"

"Aaarrgh! Don't…. call me that."

Sideswipe took in a deep vent to calm himself and tried to think. There had to be a way out of this somehow. There had to be a way out. Signing that contract was still a death sentence, just a more distant one.

Sideswipe reached into subspace with his good hand and brought out a small knife. At least they hadn't taken away his weapons. He pressed his bad hand to the wall. It was kind of awkward because of the stasis cuffs, and it hurt like pit, but he just gritted his denta and focused on what he had to do. His other hand gripped the knife so hard it was denting the inside of his fingers a little. He took one more deep vent and slammed the blade into his wrist.

It took three tries, but then he was free. He stumbled across the room, leaving his mangled hand by the wall, and fell to his knees beside Sunstreaker.

His brother looked up at him. "Going to sign the contract?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Sideswipe said. "If I can get out of here and bring back a medic..."

Sunstreaker panicked and tried to sit up, but Sideswipe pushed him down forcefully. "Don't do that!"

"Don't leave."

Sideswipe shuttered his optics.

There was a rebellion in Iacon. One of their leaders was a former gladiator, who'd escaped slavery. They had a medic, he'd heard. A mech who was willing to help anyone. And they had a groundbridge.

"Mech, if I sign that contract, we're still going to offline, eventually, after we've made those pit spawns lots of credit. I can… I can bring back a medic."

"Don't leave," Sunstreaker gasped. "Please…"

"Calm down," Sideswipe said. "Just calm down. You need to go into stasis. Stop fighting it."

Sunstreaker's faceplate contorted into a mask of pain. "What if it knocks you out too?" he whispered.

"Well, then we're fragged," Sideswipe said. "But you'll live longer in stasis. I need time."

"Don't leave."

"I'm right here."

"Promise me."

"Frag it, Sunny, I _have_ to go find you a medic. It's that or sign the contract. I am _not_ going to sell us into slavery."

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics, trembling.

"Stop fighting it!"

Sideswipe felt blackness closing in. He let it, knowing that if he resisted, he'd keep his brother awake too. His processor warned him that shutdown was imminent, but he just shuttered his optics and waited.

Sunstreaker slipped into stasis, and Sideswipe's helm cleared again.

Relieved, Sideswipe sat up. Now he had to get to Iacon. It was the middle of the off-cycle, but the groundbridge station would still be open. And Sideswipe had enough credit. He wished he could take Sunny with him, but he couldn't sneak out if he was carrying his brother.

And if Sunstreaker died, Sideswipe would too. In situations like this, that was actually comforting to know. Even death wouldn't separate them. If there was an afterlife, they'd go there together. "It's gonna be ok," he said, to his unconscious brother, but also to himself. He didn't know what being halfway across the planet from Sunstreaker would do to him, but he had a suspicion it wouldn't be pleasant. He just hoped the trauma wouldn't be enough to kill them.

* * *

"I can't just use the groundbridge for something like that!"

"Please," the mech said. "Please, he's dying."

Ratchet looked down. He couldn't just turn this mech away… but they had to be careful. "There has to be some other way to get to him."

"But we'd have to fight our way out of there," the red mech looked up at Ratchet. "And there's not enough time to get there. Please. If you don't help me we're both going to offline."

Part of him didn't want to believe this mech… but he had to. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't help.

"There's no one else I can go to! Please, I'll pay you anything you want!"

There was a hopeless desperation in his flickering golden optics.

Ratchet sighed. "Fine, I'll help you."

"What do you want in return?"

"Nothing!" Ratchet snapped. "Come on!"

The mech stumbled after him as he made his way down the basement stairs.

Then, as Ratchet got the groubdridge ready, he leaned against the wall, shuttering his optics. Ratchet's core filled with pity… and anger. Stupid fools deserved to offline. It wasn't as if they'd been forced into their situation.

"Give me the coordinates."

The mech started reciting coordinates, and Ratchet put them into the bridge. "All right," he said once everything was ready. "Here's what we do. We'll go in there and grab your brother and bring him back here so I can repair him."

The other mech nodded mutely. He was shaking, and seemed to be in more pain than his injuries ought to be causing. His twin must be very badly hurt.

Ratchet opened the bridge and stepped through.

* * *

Sideswipe followed Ratchet through the groundbridge into the room Sunstreaker was in—and froze.

They weren't alone. The mech who'd tried to trick them into signing a contract, as well as the two guards, were back.

"Groundbridge…" the mech said, frowning.

"Pit!" Ratchet said, putting a hand to his helm like he was sending a comm.

"Don't move!" the contract mech said, and the guards raised their weapons.

Sunstreaker was just past them, lying motionless on the floor. If Sideswipe could... but even if he reached his brother, he wouldn't be able to carry him past the guards and into the bridge.

"Well, this is interesting," the contract mech said. "You managed to find someone with an illegal groundbridge somehow. I'm sure the enforcers will be happy to speak with you and your friend about that,"

"Don't let them through the bridge," Ratchet muttered, getting into a fighting stance.

Sideswipe stared at him.

"There'll be no need for any sort of conflict," the contract mech said, transforming his hand into an elegant gun and pointing it at Sunstreaker. "Step away from that bridge, or I'll shoot this mech."

Pit.

"As a bonus," the mech said. "If you sign the contract, Sideswipe, we won't turn you over to enforcement for using an illegal groundbridge."

They didn't say they wouldn't turn Ratchet in, though.

The groundbridge closed.

Ratchet let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Sideswipe transformed his good hand into a gun. "I don't think so," he growled. "Get away from my brother."

The mech powered up his gun, scowling. "I _will_ kill him."

And by extension, kill Sideswipe. They probably didn't know about the unstable bond… but that didn't matter. What could he do?

"You have three astroseconds… one…"

Sideswipe lowered his gun and put it away.

The guards converged on him and shoved him back into the wall, where the groundbridge had been just moments ago. He cried out as one of them grabbed the tattered stump at the end of his arm.

Sunstreaker twitched and his engine coughed. He was coming back online. No…

Ratchet shot Sideswipe an annoyed look and advanced on the other mech, but one of the guards left Sideswipe to grab him. The smaller mech twisted free from the guard's grip. "Let me go! I'm a medic."

"Stasis-cuff them both and bring them. We'll leave the yellow one here."

Ratchet dodged the guard again. "Hand us over to the enforcers? I'll hand _you_ over to the enforcers, you slagging criminal! Gladiator fights are illegal!"

The room stilled as Ratchet faced off with the contract mech.

Sideswipe struggled, but it was no use. They were doomed. They were going to offline. He had to do something.

"I'll give you one warning," the medic said, and Sideswipe looked up. Ratchet didn't look scared, just angry. "Get out of my way."

The other mech snorted. "Take them and let's—"

He didn't finish his sentence because something flew and hit him in the faceplate with a loud clang. The guard charged the medic, but the little orange mech tripped him and grabbed the energon prod he was carrying, which he slammed into the mech's helm, knocking him unconscious.

Then he turned to look at Sideswipe and the other guard.

"Well, don't just _stand_ there!" he said.

Oh. Right.

Sideswipe shoved the shocked guard away from himself and shot him in the helm. He went down. Probably wasn't getting up again.

Silence fell. Sunstreaker groaned. Sideswipe went to kneel by him, but Ratchet rushed over to the mech Sideswipe had shot.

"Hey!" Sideswipe said.

"I came here to fix mecha, not offline them!" Ratchet snapped. "Pick your brother up. This building must be shielded, because my comm. isn't working now that we don't have the groundbridge here. We'll have to get outside." He reached into the injured guard's helm.

Sideswipe worked his arms under his brother again and picked him up. This time, he was weak enough that he could barely carry him. Sunstreaker shifted again, but didn't un-shutter his optics.

Sideswipe had to stand and wait while the medic worked on the mech he had shot. "Is this really necessary?"

"You're the one who shot him," Ratchet said. "Was _that_ necessary? There… he'll live." He went and retrieved something from the floor—a large wrench—and then walked toward the door. "Let's go. I don't know my way around, but you should probably stay behind me. Just tell me which way to go to get out of here. Ready?"

"Yes."

He opened the door and they ran out into the hallway.

"Left!" Sideswipe called at the first intersection. Then "Straight!"

They ran into a few guards. The medic took them out neatly with the energon prod he'd taken from the first guard he'd knocked out. Sideswipe had never seen a medic who could fight, but he figured he'd better stay focused and just chalk it up to good fortune for now.

They ran from the building into the starlit off-cycle of the city.

"Ok," the medic said, and dropped the energon prod.

A groundbridge opened up in front of them and they stepped through it back into the room, where there were now five or six mecha there, watching anxiously.

"Out of my way!" the medic said. Sideswipe followed him.

"Ratchet!" one of them said. "What the slag! Do you realize—"

"Not now!" Ratchet called over his shoulder.

"What in all of Cybertron?"

"Oh, Primus…"

"Who are they?"

Sideswipe just followed Ratchet until they got to a small room crowded with medical equipment. Sideswipe put his brother down on a berth, and watched as the medic started frantically working on him. Another mech poked his helm in the door, but Ratchet shouted at him to go away and he retreated.

"Shut the door," Ratchet muttered. "Lock it. I don't want anyone bothering me."

Sideswipe obediently got up and shut the door. He wasn't quite sure how to lock it, though, so he just walked back to where he'd been sitting. "Is he going to be ok?"

"Yes."

Sunstreaker was back in stasis. Sideswipe was exhausted too, but he couldn't shutter his optics or let himself slip into recharge until he knew that this mech wasn't lying to him, and that his brother would be all right. "You're pretty good with that wrench."

"Shut up."

Sideswipe looked down at the stump where his arm ended. "Thank you."

Ratchet snorted. "Do you know what would have happened if I'd been arrested? The whole resistance would have been compromised! I know practically everyone here, and the location of the base, and the locations of all the back-up bases... You nearly got hundreds of mecha offlined!"

Sideswipe looked up again, processing that information. This mech had risked a lot to come and save his brother.

"And this is _your_ fault," Ratchet said. "No one _asked_ you to go fight in the gladiator ring. You did that to yourselves!"

And that was also true.

"Fragging idiots. You have an unstable bond, too, don't you? I haven't scanned for it yet, but the signs are all there."

"Yeah," Sideswipe said. "We were separated as sparklings."

"Well, you almost got separated again, permanently," Ratchet growled. "Gladiators, gah. Offlining each other for credit. It makes me sick."

He kept up a steady rant as he worked. Sideswipe just watched. This was the strangest medic he'd ever met. But he'd saved their lives, at great risk to himself, and Sideswipe would never be able to repay him.

"… and if you ever do something like this again, don't come crying to me, because I'm not going to help you a second time…" Ratchet stood back with a sigh, and looked down at his work. Sunstreaker was doing better. Sideswipe could feel it over the bond. "Well, I'll want to keep him here for the rest of the off-cycle. Maybe all of next orn too. And then after that, he should rest for at least two decaorns. Those were substantial injuries." He went to a sink and washed and dried his hands. "Your turn now. Sit on the other berth."

Sideswipe got up and went to look at his brother. The hole in Sunstreaker's torso still gaped open, but he wasn't leaking anymore, and his internals weren't the shredded mess they'd been before. "He's not finished."

"No, but he's fine. I'll finalize his repairs after I've stopped your arm from leaking and also done something about your leg. Sit on the berth. Now."

Sideswipe sat down on the berth. Ratchet came up behind him and accessed the control panel on the back of his neck. The pain from Sideswipe's arm diminished, and he couldn't even feel his leg injury. The medic came around the front.

"Arm."

Sideswipe held out his injured stump. Ratchet quickly tied off energon lines and cleaned out the wound. He was efficient, but also gentle, and the only time it really hurt was when he had to fish out some shrapnel that was lodged in some cables.

When he'd finished cleaning out Sideswipe's arm, he moved down to the leg. "I don't have the materials to replace your hand," Ratchet said. "And I'll just have to use temp plating to cover that gaping hole in your brother. But if you come back in a few decaorns, I'll have had time to get some replacement parts for both of you. Your leg will be fine, if you don't walk on it too much. _Don't_ walk on it, by the way, not until you leave at the end of next orn."

Ratchet finished his leg and told him to recharge, then went back to working on Sunstreaker. Sideswipe lay back on the berth as the feeling slowly came back into his arm and leg. The pain wasn't enough to stop him from slipping into unconsciousness. Despite the fact that he and his brother were injured, he hadn't felt this safe for a very long time.

* * *

Ratchet stumbled out of his office and to the kitchen. His chronometer said it was two or three joors past dawn. He got a cube of energon out of the closet and sat down at the table, across from Soundwave. He was almost too exhausted to drink it.

Soundwave watched him passively.

Ratchet shuttered his optics and put his helm down on the table. "I just saved the lives of two slagging idiots."

Soundwave was silent.

"The scum of society." He looked up to see his friend nod. "They're probably criminals."

"Yes." Soundwave said.

Ratchet sighed and sipped his energon. "Well, make sure they don't steal anything from my office while I'm recharging. Ungrateful pitspawns."

Soundwave tilted his helm to the side slightly.

Ratchet sat up and downed the rest of the cube. "Actually, come wake me if the yellow one comes out of stasis. I need to make sure all of his systems are functioning properly." He left the empty energon cube on the table and trudged to his room, where he collapsed onto his berth. Of course, as much as he complained, he'd never turn anyone away. Not if they were the most despicable mecha on the planet. No one. Never.

His systems shut down and he slipped into recharge.


	13. Teamwork (MV 79-80)

Introduction: This chapter happens during Many Voices chapter 79 and ends right when chapter 80 starts. I don't think it contains any serious spoilers, but it'll make more sense if you read it right after chapter 79.

* * *

"Go!" Jazz shoved Orion toward the bridge. He didn't look like he wanted to leave, but fortunately, Soundwave grabbed him and pulled him through.

Then the enforcers opened fire. Jazz didn't have time to think before something crashed into him from the side, knocking him away from the groundbridge. It was that stuck-up Praxian, and for an instant, he thought that Prowl had turned on them. By the time he'd hit the ground and rolled behind a pile of boxes, he realized the other mech had probably just been trying to get him out of the line of fire. He got to a kneeling position, and saw that Prowl was already kneeling, with a gun in hand, and aiming—not at the other enforcers, but at the groundbridge.

He fired, and hit the controls. Another shot—a stray one from the stairs—hit another part of the bridge, and it exploded, sending shrapnel and debris flying across the room. Jazz and the Praxian enforcer were mostly shielded by the boxes they were crouched behind.

The feedback in Jazz's audios faded slowly, as he analyzed the situation.

They needed to get somewhere safe or they'd be caught as soon as the smoke cleared.

The nearest exit was the passage that led out the back, but he couldn't open that door without someone noticing—it was enormous.

There was one other passage that led out of the basement. It was on the other side of the room, though. Jazz could probably get there without any of the enforcers seeing him, but he didn't think he could bring Prowl with him.

"Did those last two get through?" one of the enforcers said.

"Don't know, sir. I didn't see."

Jazz glanced at the Praxian. Prowl had his optics shuttered, and a look of defeat on his faceplate. He was injured too—one of his doorwings looked like it had been hit full-on by a plasma blast. It wasn't leaking, but it looked burned pretty badly.

There were too many enforcers for Jazz to fight them off, and he thought he could hear more coming down the stairs.

"Search the room."

"What's going on?"

"They got through the bridge, most of them at least. There might still be two hiding in here somewhere."

"No, what was that noise?"

"Their bridge exploded."

"What? We need the coordinates from that so we know where they went."

If he tried to help Prowl, they'd both be caught. He still didn't trust the mech, much less like him. Perceptor was a much higher priority.

But he couldn't just leave this mech here to get caught. He reached out and tapped Prowl's shoulder. The Praxian un-shuttered his optics.

Jazz mouthed "follow me" and crawled toward the larger exit. Prowl had shown up to warn them, then shoved Jazz out of the line of fire. He couldn't just abandon the mech.

Miraculously, they made it to the door without being seen, but he was going to need to stand up to open it.

"Okay," he whispered, so quiet he was pretty sure only a Praxian would be able to hear. "I'm gonna open this door and you're going ta go through and run and keep running. I'll catch up. Three… Two…"

Jazz stood and yanked the door open.

"Hey!"

"Don't move!"

Jazz darted through the doorway and caught the door before it could open fully, using it as a shield as Prowl came through. Then he slammed it shut again and locked it. He could hear Prowl running ahead of him. There was a hidden door in the tunnel too, that led to a passage that looped around.

That was good, because they'd never make it to the end of this tunnel without being overrun. He noticed a drop of fresh energon on the ground and realized that the other mech must have been hurt worse than he'd thought.

He caught up with Prowl just as they reached the branch-off.

"Stop!" he said. He could hear banging coming from down the tunnel where the door was. Prowl skidded to a stop and leaned against the wall, venting hard. Jazz searched in the darkness for the panel that was hiding the side passage.

There.

He pulled it open, and beckoned Prowl in.

The tunnel was filled with light and sound for a moment, after the enforcers managed to get the door in the basement open, but Jazz pulled the panel back into place and the noise was muted again.

"Keep going," he said. "Follow me."

He led the way through the darkness at a walking pace, grateful to whoever had built Perceptor's house with so many escape routes.

Once they were back in the building, they crawled through the secret tunnels to a small storage room with a secret back door.

There, he stopped and got out an orb-shaped lantern.

"Sit down."

"According to my locator, we've come back to the professor's house."

"Yep," Jazz said. "We left Perceptor behind, and I've gotta get him out. Ya doin' ok?"

"I'm fine," Prowl said.

Jazz turned on his lantern and sat down with his back against the closet doors. He adjusted the brightness as the Praxian carefully lowered himself to the ground in the other corner.

Jazz shuttered his optics, and took in a deep, calming vent. Since he'd joined Autobot, some interesting things had happened, but this was the most exciting one by far. He had to try very hard not to be happy about it.

"Ok," he looked up again. Prowl had been closer to the exploding groundbridge. It seemed not all of the shrapnel had missed him. He had a few pieces embedded in his armor, and one gash that was leaking down his arm, but it didn't look too bad. His doorwing looked really painful, though. "Ya ought ta be safe here. This storage room's in an out-of-the-way kinda place. I'm gonna go find Perceptor. If ya hear anymech outside these doors behind me, just back up inta the passage and close the other door. Got it?"

Prowl un-shuttered his optics and glared at him.

"Ya're welcome for saving your life, by the way,"

"I would have managed," Prowl said through gritted denta.

"Then I guess I shouldn't have bothered," Jazz carefully maneuvered over to the door in the back of the storage room and slipped through. "If I'm not back in a joor, ya'll have ta find a way out without me."

Prowl didn't answer, so Jazz left him there with the lantern.

He crept through the passageways and ventilation shafts, frying Red's cameras as he went, so that by the time they hacked into the computers, they wouldn't be able to pull up any data from the secret passageways.

He got to Perceptor's lab, which was quiet. Through a crack in the wall, he could see that a table had been overturned and there was all sorts of scientific equipment strewn across the floor, but Perceptor wasn't here. Pit.

Jazz kept looking, starting at one corner of the house and working his way toward the other. He found them in the meeting room—Perceptor and six enforcers. The professor himself, was sitting at the table, wearing stasis cuffs, and with a deep, painful-looking dent on his faceplate.

"I've said what I'm going to say," he insisted.

"And I've warned you." One of the enforcers was sitting across the table from the professor. "I'm not going to be asking nicely for much longer. Where did that bridge go? What were the coordinates?"

"I don't know," Perceptor said. "I wasn't there."

"Even if you don't know the specific coordinates, surely you know where Autobot is hiding now? You must know all of the places they might hide."

"I do not," Perceptor said calmly. "I was merely hosting them. I don't know their plans or where they might have gone, or anything else. I have told you everything."

The enforcer stared across the table, then shook his helm. "I'm not buying it, Prof. You have two breems while I go find something suitably acidic in your lab. Think about what that means, and maybe you'll reconsider whether or not you can help me."

The enforcer left the room.

Pit.

They needed to get Perceptor out. Jazz could get out by himself with no problem, but he had an injured Prowl and a soon-to-be injured Perceptor to drag with him. He wasn't sure which was more of a liability.

He could probably take the six guards in this room, but not before at least one raised the alarm, and he estimated that there were about thirty of them in the house. Thirty enforcers. The Council was done playing.

Jazz didn't stick around to see what happened when the enforcer came back. If he could get Prowl out now, he could come back for Perceptor.

He took a different route down to the storage room Prowl was in, so he could kill more of the cameras as he went. He'd almost completely taken Red Alert's security system out by the time he got there.

Prowl hadn't moved at all, and he didn't look up from the soft blue light of the lantern as Jazz slipped past him into the room.

"Okay," Jazz said quietly. "Here's the thing. I can probably find a way ta get ya out of here. Once I do, ya're gonna need ta…"

"What about the other mech?"

"I'll come back for him."

Prowl shook his helm. "It's too risky. By now they will have surveillance all around, and there's no way anyone could leave without detection."

"I can do it," Jazz said.

"I doubt that."

"Well, would ya rather I leave ya here?"

"I would rather you not do anything rash," the Praxian glared at him. "And just wait until I can come up with a plan to get all of us out."

Jazz raised an optic ridge. "Excuse me?"

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't distract me."

"Do ya even _know_ the layout of this house?"

"Yes."

"How about the network of passages through it?"

Prowl frowned.

"Then…"

"Stop," Prowl said.

Jazz opened his mouth to say that Prowl was _not_ in charge here, when Prowl leaned forward and grabbed his arm.

"Someone's coming," he hissed.

Jazz shut his lip plates and listened. Sure enough, footsteps approached their hiding place. Jazz grabbed the orb and shut it off, then indicated for Prowl to climb into the passage. Prowl shot him another glare before doing so. His injured doorwing scraped the corner of the secret doorway and he flinched away from it with a quiet gasp.

"Go, _go_!" Jazz hissed as the footsteps neared, and the two chatting enforcers approached the supply room. Prowl climbed into the passageway and Jazz followed and shut it just in time to hear the door on the other side open.

"Nope," he heard. "Nothing in here. Wonder why there are so many empty rooms and closets in this house."

Jazz waited, but though he heard footsteps receding, he never heard the door shut. Frag it. There was a camera in that hallway that pointed right toward the supply room.

They'd have to find somewhere else to wait. Somewhere besides this cramped passageway.

"They left the door open," Jazz said quietly.

"I _know_ that," Prowl said, sounding strained.

"We can't go close it, there's a camera. Keep crawling forward, we'll go somewhere else."

He heard Prowl moving up ahead, and followed, frustrated at the slow pace the other mech set. Eventually, he steered them to a decently large tunnel that ran alongside a wall on the ground floor. Again, Jazz pulled out his orb lantern and set it on the ground, then sat down in front of it. Prowl sat opposite him, reaching out to rest a trembling hand on the wall, as if to steady himself.

"Hey, mech…"

"My designation is Prowl."

"That doorwing, uh… looks like it hurts."

"You think so?"

Jazz tried to ignore his condescending, sarcastic tone. "I can help stop the pain if ya want."

Prowl, unsurprisingly, just glared at him.

"Really," Jazz said. "It might be a while before ya can get medical help."

"Whatever it is you intend to do, I'm sure I'm better off without it."

"But…"

"You are _not_ coming anywhere near my doorwing," Prowl said. "I can manage."

"Okay," Jazz said. "I was just trying ta help, mech."

"My designation is Prowl. And I would appreciate it if you would stop talking."

"Ya know, if we're gonna be stuck here together, ya might as well try ta be a little more polite."

"No," Prowl said. " _You_ might as well try your very best to be _quiet_ so I can think up a way out of here in peace and we can _stop_ being stuck here more quickly."

Jazz huffed. "Why is it your job ta come up with a plan?"

"Because I'll come up with a better one than you will."

"What!"

"Don't shout, someone will hear us. You might not like it, but it's the truth and the longer you argue with me the longer we will be here."

"Ya really think that, do ya? You arrogant…"

"Insulting me, despite what you might think, does _not_ help me concentrate."

"Fine then!" Jazz said. "Come up with your stupid plan if you like. I'll just be over here, hacking inta the frequencies those enforcers are using so I can figure out what the pit is going on."

"You can't do that," Prowl said.

"Why not?"

"And it wouldn't help anyway. Anything on those frequencies will be heavily encrypted."

"So?" Jazz said. "I can decrypt them."

"With what computer?"

Jazz tapped the side of his helm.

"You can't do that," Prowl said.

"Yes I can!"

"I keep telling you not to shout," Prowl said quietly, glaring. "They _will_ hear us eventually. If you can't control your temper, then you're going to get us caught and there will be nothing I can do about that."

"Then maybe _you_ ought ta shut up!"

"Exactly. That's what I've been saying. We need to stop talking." Prowl said, then looked down at the lantern.

Jazz nearly spoke again, then sighed and crossed his arms instead. He wanted the last word, but he knew when he was beaten. So he decided to settle for proving Prowl wrong about the enforcers' communications. In the silence, he could hear what might have been faint screaming.

Better not to think about that.

He just hoped they didn't take Perceptor out of the house, because rescuing him from here was going to be easier than trying to follow them.

Jazz cleared his mind with some effort and started trying to figure out what frequency the enforcers were using. In about fifteen breems he had found it and it took ten more to filter and decrypt the messages on it.

"So," he said quietly to Prowl. "Did ya come up with a brilliant plan?"

"Several," Prowl said. "But I don't trust you enough to pull them off."

"Well, I've hacked inta the enforcer communications," Jazz said. "And in a few breems, I'll have made my way through the communications block they've got all over the house and I'll be able ta send Orion and Soundwave a message."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I can tell ya what they're saying ta each other over the comm. if ya don't believe me."

"Can you send _them_ a message?"

"Uh… yeah," Jazz said. "But that'd make it kinda easy for them ta find us."

Prowl shook his helm. "Let me rephrase. Can you send them messages so that they think they're talking to each other?"

"Ah…" Jazz said. "That might be a bit trickier, but I think I can pull it off."

"Are you simply saying that, or can you actually do it?"

"Look, I wouldn't say it, if I didn't think I could do it. It'll take some time for me ta figure it out."

"Do you know where they're keeping the professor?"

"His designation is Perceptor, and I did see him, but I don't know if he's in the same place."

"You should verify that," Prowl said. "We'll want to take him out the nearest exit."

"No," Jazz said. "We want ta take him down through the bottom of the building ta the lower levels."

"That's what they'll expect," Prowl said. "I think we should take him out the front door."

"What?" Jazz said. "That's _insane._ "

"It's our best chance. You will have to trust me."

"I don't trust ya."

"Would you like to hear the gist of my plan? Or are you going to keep arguing with me just because you don't like to be wrong?"

"I am not… fine, talk."

Prowl explained his plan while Jazz listened. It was, after Jazz heard it, actually a pretty decent plan. Still insane, but in a good way.

Jazz went back to listening to the enforcers talk to each other, and Prowl went back to sitting with his optics shut, looking tense. After several more breems, Jazz discovered that Perceptor had been taken down to the first floor, which was even better for Prowl's plan. He memorized all of their voices and figured out a way to send fake messages between them.

"They've stopped," Prowl said at length.

Jazz looked up. "Huh?"

"I believe they've stopped interrogating your friend. At least… I can't hear it anymore."

Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. There was nothing he could have done. At least they could be sure to get him out.

"Do you know how many there are guarding him?" Prowl asked. His matter-of-fact tone wasn't helping Jazz like him any more.

"Five."

"Too many," Prowl muttered.

"Maybe…"

"If even one of them manages to contact…"

"I know," Jazz said. "Ya don't have ta explain things ta me like I'm some kinda sparkling."

"In about a joor and a half, the sun dome will shut off," Prowl continued. "They might have fewer mecha guarding him during the off-cycle, so that might be a good time."

"What if they take him out of the house?"

"Are you listening to their comm channels?"

"Yes."

"If they decide to take him somewhere else, let me know and we'll change the plan. But they probably won't. Perceptor is a well-known and well-liked professor at the Academy, isn't he? If he just disappeared, that would be suspicious. But if there was an accident in his lab and he died…"

"How can ya talk about that like it's nothing?" Jazz demanded.

"We're racing the clock," Prowl continued, as if he hadn't heard. "But if he's still alive now, he'll probably be that way at least until sunrise. Probably…"

"Who are ya talking to?"

"I don't know," Prowl's doorwings flicked angrily and he looked down, grimacing.

Jazz leaned back against the wall of the passage. Astroseconds ticked by slowly. Prowl seemed content to sit in silence, staring at the lantern.

Jazz was used to getting along with nearly everyone, but this mech might be one of the exceptions. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try, though. And he had a couple of questions.

"Hey, Prowler or whatever ya wanted me to call you."

"It's Prowl."

"Whatever. I wanna know something."

"Oh really?"

"I'm a wanted criminal," Jazz said. "We've established that. I oughtta be in jail at the very least, and Primus knows they could pick and choose what they wanted ta execute me for."

"I am well aware of that," Prowl said. "If our circumstances were different, I would do the world a favor and arrest you."

"Yeah, but…" Jazz said. "Back in the basement, ya could have just jumped through the bridge and left me ta get shot by those other enforcers."

"I could not have simply gone through the bridge. They would have followed and the whole exercise of sending everyone through would have been pointless."

"So ya _intended_ ta get left behind?"

Prowl didn't answer.

"Someone would have had ta stay behind, wouldn't they?"

"There wasn't much time to think about it…"

"But ya shoved me out of the line of fire…"

"That's just programming. I'm an enforcer."

"…and then turned around and shot up the controls…"

"Which was a logical thing to do. I didn't want them to be able to find out where the others had gone. I'm sorry I didn't think to shove you _into_ the bridge. Then I'd have had some peace and quiet."

"Yeah, and ya'd have been caught."

Prowl frowned.

His doorwing must have already been hurt by the time he and Jazz had gotten out of the way. He'd never made a sound though. He'd just gotten up and shot the controls. Despite Prowl's general unfriendliness, Jazz couldn't help feeling a grudging respect for him. "And what do ya mean by programming?"

"Enforcers are trained to protect other mecha."

"Including wanted and highly dangerous criminals?"

"You'd rather I let you get killed?"

"I just wanna know why ya didn't."

"Why?"

"Because we've gotta talk about _something_ , Prowler. I'm not just gonna sit here in silence for the next three joors."

"I would prefer it if we did. And I don't know how many times I have to tell you that is _not_ my designation."

Jazz shook his helm. "And why did ya come warn us in the first place if ya dislike us so much?"

Prowl let out a shaky sigh, and didn't say anything.

"If ya really disapprove of the rebellion, and ya really wanna arrest me, then why are ya helping us?"

"As much as I hate to say it, the Council is corrupt. I reviewed all of the facts that were available to me and determined that it would be inappropriate for me to allow you to be arrested and killed."

"Even me."

"No, just Orion and the others," Prowl said. "Those of you who haven't committed any serious crimes."

"Ouch. Are we not counting treason as a crime?"

"In this case, no."

Silence fell for a few moments. Then Jazz posed another question. "What are ya gonna do if we get out of this? Join Autobot."

"If I can." Jazz thought he saw a hint of worry in Prowl's expression. "If they let me. If not, I'll just let Orion know that I'm a resource he can call upon."

"Why wouldn't we let ya join?"

Prowl didn't answer.

"Mech, they let _me_ join."

"I noticed. I suppose they must have come to trust you somehow." He narrowed his optics as if to say that he wouldn't be making the same mistake.

Jazz shrugged and looked away. He was still honored and amazed that Orion had let him join, and that Soundwave had backed him up. He didn't deserve their trust. He wasn't even certain he could trust himself.

"It's my turn to ask a question," Prowl said.

He was going to ask Jazz something about Quantum, wasn't he? Well, Jazz didn't have to answer if he didn't want to.

"Why didn't you leave me in the basement?"

Jazz looked up. Prowl was staring into the lantern, looking vaguely miserable. "What?"

"Why didn't you just leave me there? You saw I was injured. I was a liability. I'm sure it would have been easier for you to get out without me."

Jazz followed Prowl's gaze to the lantern. The frightening truth was that he had run through that very logic in his own mind down in the basement. He'd nearly left this mech to the mercy of the enforcers.

"Don't tell me it's because it was the 'right thing to do' because I've known good mecha who leave each other to die in the heat of the moment. Especially when they dislike each other. And you're not a good mech."

Jazz wondered if Prowl had left someone in danger or if someone had abandoned him.

"Why?" Prowl said again.

"Ta tell the truth, I don't know," Jazz said. "I just… well, ya'd just saved my life, I figured I owed ya."

Prowl nodded, as if he thought that was an acceptable answer, and the slight vulnerability on his faceplate disappeared so completely Jazz thought he had imagined it.

"Just so ya know," Jazz said. "I really didn't escape from jail. Actually, the Council offered me a job. They wanted me ta infiltrate Autobot and help them take it down." He smirked. "But I never had any intention of doing that."

Prowl frowned.

"So they're probably not real happy with me at the moment. And if ya turn me in, they'll kill me."

"I'm well aware."

"And I'd deserve it," Jazz said. "So I'm not gonna try and talk ya out of arresting me, but what Orion's doing is important, and I gotta help him, so… can ya wait until the resistance doesn't need me anymore?"

Prowl stared at him for a few astroseconds, then shook his helm with a sigh. "I'm fairly certain I won't have the authority to arrest you after this. And if I turned you in, I would have to turn myself in as well."

"Guess that's true," Jazz said.

"I'll _have_ to wait until this is all over. But I don't think you should be allowed to avoid the consequences of your actions just because you're currently working for a good cause."

Jazz nodded. "Can't argue with that. And like ya said, I do deserve ta be executed. So… some orn, ya get your wish. For now…" he held out his hand. "Truce?"

Prowl narrowed his optics.

He probably doubted Jazz's sincerity. But he didn't understand. This was just another convenient distraction. Once it was done, Jazz would have to stop running from his fate again.

"Come on, Prowler," Jazz said, reaching his hand out a little farther.

Prowl looked as if he were considering it, then shook his helm. "I'm not going to shake hands with you."

Jazz leaned back again and sighed. "Fine."

"You know, you have yet to use my actual designation while addressing me."

"Yup."

"That's infuriating."

"I know."

Prowl huffed and looked away. Jazz's smile deepened. If you couldn't win them over, then driving them up the wall was the next best thing.

They sat in silence for half a joor. Jazz listened to the enforcers talking and Prowl just sat. The Praxian still looked tense. He was probably in a lot of pain. Jazz wondered if he should offer again to help.

"Hey, mech."

Prowl didn't move.

"I really _can_ help with that doorwing."

Prowl shook his helm slightly, but didn't look at Jazz.

"Prowl?"

He looked up.

Jazz let himself smile slightly. "Look, we've still got more than a joor before we're gonna try ta get Perceptor out of here, and then who knows how long it'll be before we get ta a medic. Let me do this, all right?"

Prowl looked down.

"That's probably more than ya want ta trust me." Jazz said. "I understand that, but I really just wanna help. Besides, when we actually _do_ try ta bust Perceptor out of here, you'll be more help if ya aren't in so much pain."

"Fine." Prowl said.

"'Kay," Jazz said. "Turn around."

"What are you going to do?" Prowl asked, obligingly turning his back to Jazz.

"It's gonna hurt a lot," Jazz said.

"I thought the point…"

"At first, then it's not gonna hurt anymore."

"What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?"

"I'm gonna cut the sensory cable, so ya can't get data from it, including pain. Ya won't be able ta hear out of it either. But I figure it's a decent trade-off."

Prowl hesitated. Jazz waited, giving him time to back out if he wanted.

"Do it."

Jazz shifted the lantern out of the way and scooted closer to Prowl. He got out a small, razor-sharp knife and set his free hand against the base of the other mech's doorwing. Prowl flinched and then stiffened.

"Sorry," Jazz said. "And sorry in advance. Try ta hold still." He cut away the casing at the base of the doorwing, just over where all the cables ought to connect. The wiring seemed to be a little more complicated than just an arm or a leg, and while Jazz's hands were steady, Prowl was shaking, so this might get kind of tricky.

Jazz passed the knife to his other hand and pulled a tiny hook out of subspace, which he used to move aside wires, looking for the one that he would need to cut. He was worried for a moment that he wouldn't recognize it, but then he found it.

"Here it comes," he muttered, then in one motion pulled it out of place with the hook and cut it with the knife in his other hand.

He'd been a little worried that Prowl would scream, and someone would hear it, but the Praxian just let out a choked whimper, then slowly relaxed. Jazz backed away as the other mech turned around.

Silence hung heavily in the atmosphere.

"Thank you," Prowl said.

"Don't mention it."

"You seem to have had some practice doing that sort of thing."

"Yup," Jazz said. "Friend of mine taught me that trick back when I was in Quantum."

"Dare I ask what you use it for?"

"Getting interrogated, mostly."

Prowl was silent for a few moments. "Ah… I see."

Jazz laughed. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn't help it, and he managed to keep it quiet enough that no one would hear him.

"What?" Prowl snapped.

"I don't know," Jazz said, after he'd calmed down. "Just the way ya said that."

Not that getting interrogated was a laughing matter. Jazz's thoughts were brought suddenly back to Perceptor, and he looked down.

They needed to get the professor out of here. First, Jazz ought to try and send a message to Soundwave. Trying to use standard frequencies would just get him caught, but if he used some really obscure one, Soundwave might never pick up on the message. He could get past the communications block they had put up around the house, but even so, it was just as likely that the enforcers would hear him.

Then again, Soundwave knew what Jazz could do. He might suspect that Jazz was planning an escape.

Cautiously, Jazz left a heavily encrypted, nearly untraceable comment on the Autobot site on the public database, and then waited, watching the site carefully. If they saw it and decrypted it, Soundwave would know _exactly_ who was talking to him.

Less than a breem later, another comment showed up under it.

One word. Typical Soundwave.

" _Status?"_

Good. Jazz had his attention. _"We'll still be here another joor. It would be nice if you could get us a transport or something. In all likelihood, only two of us will be capable of walking."_

After half a breem, there was another comment.

" _Where?"_

Where for the transport? The front door would be nice, but they'd have to time it right.

" _Could you have it two blocks north, then come meet us at the front door?"_

Jazz waited.

" _If you let me know when."_

" _I'll let you know."_

Jazz watched for any other comments, but none showed up. And then a breem later, someone took the whole conversation down. Anyone who'd been watching that would be pretty confused, but they probably wouldn't guess what it meant.

Jazz leaned back against the wall. "You're welcome."

Prowl looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"I just got us a ride out of here."

Prowl raised an optic ridge, but didn't say anything. Jazz sighed. He really wished he'd ended up stuck here with someone who was a bit more of a conversationalist, and a bit less of an arrogant snob. Oh well. At least Prowl was a competent arrogant snob. And he wasn't _so_ bad. Not as bad as Jazz had originally thought, at least.

A little more than a joor later, the number of guards personally watching over Perceptor went down to two, though they still had a strong perimeter set up outside the house, and were guarding the basement and both ends of the tunnel. Jazz led Prowl out of the room they'd been hiding in and through the passages in the walls.

There was one passage into the front room, where they were keeping Perceptor, and there was a crack in the wall that let Jazz see into the room. The professor was lying on the floor in the corner, with stasis cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and facing the wall. One of the guards was standing by the door, while the other sat in a chair at the table, sipping a cube of energon but nonetheless looking alert.

Jazz beckoned Prowl over to look through the crack as well. Then they backed down the passage a little.

"It's pretty well-lit in there," Jazz said quietly. "It's gonna be hard ta take them by surprise."

Prowl nodded.

"we gotta try, though. Ya can go for the one at the table, and I'll take the door one, all right?"

Prowl nodded again and un-subspaced a gun.

Jazz crept back to the secret door and rested a hand on it, ready to open it.

Then he sent simultaneous messages to all of the enforcers throughout the house in a way that made them think they were being sent from a superior officer. _"The Autobots are coming through the tunnel in the basement! All units not guarding the prisoner get down here to help,_ now! _"_

The guard at the table looked up from his energon, then—and Jazz thanked Primus for the luck—he stood and walked over to join his friend at the door. Both of them looked out into the hallway for a moment.

Jazz pushed the door open and slipped into the room. He raced toward the guards. One of them turned around, and Jazz heard Prowl fire his gun. The blast took the unsuspecting enforcer in the faceplate, and Jazz crashed into the other one, unsubspacing a stun knife and slamming it into the side of the mech's helm. The enforcer went down, and Jazz knocked the other one unconscious as well, then stood up.

"That was neatly done," Prowl said.

"They're just stunned," Jazz said, heading over to check on Perceptor. "If they have them monitored by a medic, he'll read all their vital signs as normal, and they'll come to in about five breems. Gives us plenty of time, and no one'll suspect." He knelt down. "Hey, Percy, can ya hear me?"

Perceptor didn't move.

"I don't think we have time to get the cuffs off," Prowl said, coming over. "I can carry him."

"Okay," Jazz said, then commed Soundwave. _"Hey, mech, we wouldn't mind that ride about now."_

Prowl knelt and picked Perceptor up. He was definitely unconscious, but Jazz didn't have time to check and see how badly hurt he was. He went ahead and got the front door open. It set off alarms, and he knew they didn't have much time before everyone figured out that there actually _weren't_ any mecha from the resistance in the basement tunnel. Prowl jogged past him, out the front door, carrying the professor, and Jazz followed, letting the door close behind him.

A large transport came down the street and skidded to a halt in front of them. The door opened and Prowl jumped in. Jazz followed. In a few moments, the door was closed and they were speeding off down the street.


	14. The Illusion of Control (BM 13 MV 71-72)

Introduction: This happens some time after the end of By Might, right after Megatronus escaped from Kaon, around chapter 70ish of Many Voices I guess. You won't know the characters in it if you haven't read By Might.

* * *

Clench was careful to keep his cool as he walked down the hall, followed closely by his guards. The light didn't seem to be on in the room he was heading for, but the door was open and he knew Casurus was in there. The mech had been ignoring Clench for too long, and this was the last straw. Just because he was the best trainer the pits had ever seen didn't mean he could disregard orders.

Clench strode through the door, and stopped just far enough inside that his guards could enter behind him The brightest thing in the room was Casurus's purple optics. A dim glow of the same color came from the cube in his hand, and he sat at a small table in the far corner, facing the wall.

"Casurus."

He turned his helm and looked up at Clench with a lazy, half-annoyed glare.

"I told you I wanted to meet with you in my office," Clench said. His anger drained and an icy chill ran down his spinal plating as he made optic contact with the smaller mech.

"Since when am I one of your lackeys?" Casurus asked quietly.

The anger returned. This mech was getting too big for his armor, that was for sure. "Since I hired you."

Casurus snorted and sipped his cube. Dyed energon, maybe with some interesting additives. "Need to talk, then talk to me," Casurus said. "Here we are."

"Don't get smart with me," Clench said. "You're just lucky you're so useful. I have a special job for you."

Casurus quirked his helm to the side. "I'm listening."

"I need you to go north and bring back that rogue fighter of yours."

"No," Casurus said, almost before Clench had finished talking. "He ain't mine." He paused to down the rest of his cube.

"I'll pay you," Clench said.

 _BANG_

Casurus slammed the empty cube onto the table.

"Are you listening to me?" Clench growled.

Casurus sprang up, crossed the room and grabbed Clench by the neck before Clench knew what was happening.

The guards just stared.

He pulled Clench forward so their faceplates were almost touching. "I told you I will not go to Iacon to fetch your little toy back. Ask me again and you'll regret it."

He let go and Clench stumbled back.

"Kill him."

The guards moved forward, then hesitated.

Casurus just shook his helm and smirked.

"I said kill him!" Clench hissed.

The guards dove forward. Casurus moved faster than Clench could follow and in a few moments, both guards were unconscious and leaking on the floor. Clench suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. He backed away, but Casurus followed, and slammed him up against the wall.

"Don't… don't kill me!"

"I want you to know something," Casurus said. "I worked for you cuz I was bored, not cuz I want your money. Find yourself a new trainer," He dropped Clench and stalked away toward the door.

"You'll regret that!" Clench said. "I'll have you hunted down and offlined." But his own words sounded weak in the darkness.

Casurus laughed again and the sound echoed in Clench's audios long after the other mech was gone.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Happy Halloween! Or happy whatever day it is when people read this. :)

2\. So, I can't even tell you all the reasons I love Casurus, but he's too much fun to write. :) He's another one of those characters who might seem like an OC, but isn't. He's actually canon, he's just going by a different name right now. Anyone want to guess what his real name is?


	15. True Colors (MV 83)

Introduction: This happens somewhere around the end of the last chapter of Many Voices. It will make more sense if you've read that already.

* * *

Prowl sat up a little straighter, fighting the urge to flinch. His doorwings had just alerted him to a presence behind him. How on Cybertron could that criminal sneak up on him so easily? No one could sneak up on him.

He waited another astrosecond for Jazz to speak before stealing the opportunity. "You had better get going if you want to meet Megatron's deadline."

Jazz was silent for a moment, and Prowl was suddenly afraid that he was about to be attacked. Prowl could handle himself in a fight, but Jazz's reputation preceded him, and the enforcer knew he wouldn't stand a chance if this mech had come here to kill him.

"I needed ta talk to ya before I left," Jazz said.

"To try and convince me to go with you?"

"Pit, no," Jazz said, coming around to sit across from Prowl at the small table he was using for a desk. "I thought about it for a while, but Megatron's fraggin' crazy, and he's gonna start a war. That's not what I want."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "So you _aren't_ joining him? But you just said you were leaving."

"Oh, I am," Jazz said. "Just not ta help Megatron. I was thinking I could go and keep an optic on him. Send back information and the like."

Prowl frowned. They hadn't considered the possibility of sending a double agent. With Soundwave involved, it didn't seem like an attainable undertaking. "Are you certain? How long do you expect that to last?"

"I don't know," Jazz said "But I'll go as long as I can. I can be careful. This sort of thing is what I'm good at—the only thing I'm really good _for_. If anymech has a chance at this, it's me."

Prowl stared at him. It seemed this mech actually thought he was going to be able to pull it off. It was insane, but… Prowl almost believed him. "But your position will be compromised eventually. Soundwave will discover you."

"Eventually," Jazz said. "And when that happens, I'll deal with it. If I can, I'll come join you mechs."

Prowl looked down. Just a few breems ago, he'd been resigned to the fact that this mech would be fighting on the other side. And now…

"Why tell _me_ this?" Prowl asked.

"Because I have ta tell someone and I knew Orion would try an' talk me out of it," Jazz said. "He's a good mech, but he doesn't understand. Sometimes ya have ta take this kinda risk, and if I don't come back, well... it was my choice ta go."

It was dangerous. Probably _too_ dangerous. Prowl should probably be trying to talk Jazz out of it. But it could prove very advantageous to have someone on the inside, and if Jazz could really do it…

"I know ya probably don't wanna trust me," Jazz said.

"That is not why I'm hesitant," Prowl said. "I'm simply not certain the risk is worth it. There are other ways for you to help us."

"Nah," Jazz said. "This sorta challenge is what I _live_ for. And getting inside information about Megatron's plans is gonna help ya a lot. Cuz despite what he says, he really does want war and you mechs are gonna have ta stop him somehow."

Prowl sighed. "Very well. We should set up a way to communicate. Would you like me to inform anyone of this or keep it confidential?"

"Just tell Orion," Jazz said. "No one else. If ya think someone _needs_ ta know, then I'll trust your judgment, but the better ya keep the secret, the less likely it is ta get back ta Megatron. If Soundwave starts actively _lookin'_ for a double agent, then I'm fragged."

Prowl nodded. "Are… you certain about this? I don't have enough information to tell you how likely it is you'll be caught, but…"

"What?" Jazz grinned. "Scared I'll die before ya get a chance ta arrest me?"

Prowl glared at him.

"Prowler…" Jazz said.

"That is not my designation."

"I know," Jazz said. "I know. And I know this is dangerous. But someone oughtta at least try, and I wouldn't let anyone else do it. Besides, I think we might still be able ta get Soundwave on our side. I know why he went with Megatron, and if I can show him somehow that he's wrong… he ain't a bad mech."

Prowl considered for a few more astroseconds. It really _would_ be helpful to have someone on the inside. He felt uneasy about it for some reason, but he doubted he'd be able to talk the mech out of it.

"I will help you," he said.

"Good."

"Thank you for offering to do this."

Jazz grinned again. "Don't mention it." He stood, and backed toward the door. "I'll contact ya once I'm in Kaon."

Prowl nodded.

Jazz left.


	16. New Friends (MV 61-83)

Introduction: This is the first of three Spare Parts chapters about things that have been happening in to Blaster. I know some people were wondering about that, so here you go! :) This chapter and the two that follow it happen after Keepsake and Cam adopted Blaster, but before the end of Many Voices.

* * *

"Hello Blaster," Keepsake said as he came in and set his bag down by the side of the room. "How was school?"

"Good," he lied. School reminded him too much of the orphanage. They were inside all the time being forced to do things like learn about math and science and history. And being able to hear everyone's thoughts was distracting. He could pull his range in of course, but then he wouldn't be able to hear the teacher and he wouldn't understand what in the Allspark they were trying to say.

 _We got some new symbiots,_ Keepsake thought. _One of them's a little escape artist._ "Go meet the new little mech," she said. "I think he needs some company."

"Yes," Lakes said. "Go distract him." _He almost got away earlier._

 _Maybe Blaster can warn us if he tries to get out again,_ Cam thought.

Blaster was lucky to have Keepsake and Cam. Sometimes he wanted to run away like he had from the orphanage. It had been easy then—he could disappear for an orn and no one would notice.

But now he couldn't do that because there were mecha who would miss him and worry about him.

Blaster went over and sat down by the new symbiot. He was mech-shaped, and in a floor-level cage, bored and plotting another escape attempt.

"Hi," Blaster said. "What's your designation?"

The little mech looked at him. _I think they just sent him over here to distract me from coming up with a way out of here. But I guess that's all right._ "I'm Eject."

"Cool. I'm Blaster. You just got here, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Eject said. _But I won't be staying here for long._ "Do you work here?"

"I'm not _old_ enough to work here," Blaster said. "But I do help." He leaned in closer. "How'd you get caught?"

Eject felt a little surprised, but came over to the bars of the cage. "They trapped me. I was just going to a lobbing game…"

"He'd sneak into games to watch," Lakes put in from across the room. "They said it's taken them quartexes to catch him."

"Well, I don't belong in here," Eject said. "And there's no harm in watching games. I didn't even use up a seat."

Lakes shook his helm. _Free roaming symbiots… he might be better behaved than some, but you can't go bothering mecha and breaking rules if you don't want to get captured and sent to a shelter._

"That sounds fun," Blaster said, then waited for the adults to stop paying attention before whispering. "I snuck into a lobbing game once, when I was younger. I didn't get to see much of it, but it was cool."

"I _would_ buy tickets," Eject said. "But they don't let us do that."

"I didn't have any credit," Blaster said.

Eject nodded. _That makes sense._ "You want to hear how the latest game went?"

"Sure," Blaster said.

In less than a breem, Eject was talking animatedly, providing Blaster with a detailed account of the game.

Blaster sat and listened and threw in a question here and there, watching the game through Eject's memories.

They kept talking after that, and Eject forgot completely about trying to escape.

Lakes was watching Blaster again, thinking. He stopped Keepsake as she passed and tilted his helm toward Blaster. _Look at that._

Keepsake smiled. _That youngling is adorable and I love him._

"He's really good with them," Lakes said quietly. _And watch carefully…_ "Good like Soundwave was."

Keepsake and Cam glanced at each other, sharing the secret in their gaze.

 _Something about their adoption of this mechling isn't what they said. I guess I shouldn't pry…_ Lakes glanced at Blaster. _L_ _ast time I compared him to Soundwave I got this same reaction. They're hiding something._

This was why it was a good thing Soundwave hadn't told them when he was younger. They'd have acted differently about him, and Lakes would have noticed, and then they'd have needed to tell Lakes. Most mecha acted differently when they knew a secret like this. It was a burden.

They could tell Lakes. Lakes was trustworthy.

But then the burden would be on him too.

"…heard about that? Blaster?"

"Hmm?" Blaster turned his attention back to Eject, who repeated his question, and they continued their conversation.

By the time they needed to go home, Blaster had made up his processor.

"Keepsake?" he said.

"Yes, mechling?"

"Can I have Eject?"

She smiled. _I thought he might ask that._

"Hold on," Eject said from his cage. "I'm not interested in being owned by anyone. I'm a free agent." _I guess It'd be easier to sneak away if I go with them, but I'd feel bad about it._

"This is a symbiot shelter," Lakes said. "Only way out is to get adopted. But I think Keepsake and Cam already have enough symbiots…"

"It's fine," Cam said. "Blaster, it's up to you. If you can talk him into agreeing, you can bring him."

Blaster nodded.

"Maybe not right now, though," Keepsake said. "We need to go home. Did you get your homework done?"

He frowned. He hadn't even started it. He _hated_ homework. Instead of answering her, he crouched down by Eject's cage.

"It wouldn't be that bad, I promise," he said. "You could watch the holoscreen all orn. And Steeljaw and Ramhorn are nice. I guess it's not the same as being free, but I'd go exploring around the city with you sometimes if you wanted…"

Eject shook his helm. "Sorry," he said. "Talking to you is fun, but it's not worth being locked up." _Poor little mechling. It seems he's already got two, though. I don't know why he'd want more. Well, I'll be gone by next on-cycle anyway._

"Ok," Blaster said. "I'll see you next orn."

Eject felt a little guilty. "See you."

Blaster followed Keepsake and Cam out the door. They transformed and Blaster climbed inside of Cam. He was quiet on the ride home, thinking.

They were curious, and a little worried, so he talked like normal once they were home, and insisted that it was all right that the new symbiot had rejected him.

And then as soon as they were recharging, he got up.

Ramhorn didn't wake when he slipped off of his berth, but Steeljaw did.

The cat got up and followed Blaster through the apartment to the front door.

Blaster stopped in the front entry.

"You shouldn't be leaving. It's not safe."

Blaster sighed and crouched down. "I've been outside in the off-cycle before. I'll be fine."

Steeljaw wasn't happy about that. _You're not supposed to leave. Keepsake and Cam wouldn't want you to._

"But I have to go do something," Blaster said. "I'll be back by next on-cycle."

Steeljaw shook his helm. "If you go, I'll tell Keepsake and Cam."

Blaster sighed and reached out to put a hand on the cat's helm. "How about… how about if you come with me, to keep me safe?"

Steeljaw considered that.

"They probably wouldn't mind."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing dangerous. Come on, I could use your help."

 _I don't know…_ Steeljaw looked at the door. _I guess he'd be fine if I come along and protect him._

Good. Blaster opened the door and they slipped out into the off-cycle.

Iacon was never entirely dark, but this outer sector was _much_ darker than Iacon Central. Still, Blaster wasn't worried. He expanded his range as he walked with Steeljaw loping silently beside him. Sometimes the feline symbiot could be annoying and overprotective, but Blaster _did_ feel safer with him there.

 _So where are we going?_ Steeljaw asked mentally after a while.

"Back to the symbiot shelter," Blaster said. "Eject is going to try to break out and I want to catch him."

 _Well I agree that he should be stopped, but why not let Keepsake and Cam do it?_

"Because," Blaster said. "I want to talk to him some more. I like him and I think he's trustworthy." Something the mech-shaped symbiot had thought about had made Blaster curious, and he needed to ask about it.

 _You're going to tell him about you? Are you sure?_

"Yes," Blaster said. "He's got secrets already. Besides, he's really smart and interesting to talk to. And he'll just get caught and locked up again if he's on his own."

That last part wasn't necessarily true because Eject was sneaky, but a symbiot on the streets was always in danger. Mecha cared if you hurt other mecha, but the only time they cared about a symbiot was if someone owned them.

"In any case, I won't have another chance because I think he actually _will_ manage to get away."

Steeljaw sighed. _It's too dark out here. And the shelter is a_ long _way._

"It's not that far," Blaster said. "It'll be fine."

Steeljaw jumped at every shadow, reminding Blaster that he was an inside cat, and not used to being outside in the off-cycle. His nervousness was infectious and Blaster started to get a little anxious as well, but they made it to the shelter without anything happening or any adults catching them.

Blaster expanded his range to cover the whole building. Fortunately, he wasn't too late, and Eject was still there, trying to figure out how to get the latch on his cage open.

"So…" Steeljaw said.

"He'll come out this way," Blaster said. "Through the back… he's pretty fast. I might need you to jump on him."

"Jump on him?" Steeljaw asked, perturbed. _That wouldn't be very polite._

"You'll probably terrify him," Blaster said. "But it's fine, as long as you don't hurt him."

Steeljaw looked down at his yellow pedes. "Well, all right," he said quietly.

Blaster sat against the wall, amused. If something bad _did_ happen, he'd probably be the one protecting his cat, not the other way around.

They waited. Blaster listened as Eject got free from the cage and crept through the building to the back door where they were waiting.

The door opened a crack and the little mech slipped out and started down the road.

Steeljaw leaped at him with a low growl. Eject jumped so hard his pedes left the ground, but he didn't get out of the way in time and Steeljaw landed on him, pinning him down.

Eject screamed.

Blaster pushed away from the wall, wincing. It would have been funny, but Eject was terrified.

"I'm horribly sorry," Steeljaw said, but didn't let him up. "Are you all right?"

Some of Eject's fear left. "What… get _off_ of me!"

"Sorry," Blaster said. "Steeljaw, let him up."

Steeljaw did so, and Eject got up and brushed himself off, then looked up at Blaster, before staring at Steeljaw again.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Steeljaw asked.

Eject let out a shaky giggle. "You scared me half to death," he said. "What was that for?"

"Again, sorry," Blaster said. "We just wanted to talk to you before you left."

"What are you doing here in the middle of the off-cycle, youngling?" Eject said. "And how did you know I was…" He frowned up at Blaster.

"We probably shouldn't talk here," Blaster said. "Someone might have heard you scream. Come on."

 _I should probably just run for it._

"But don't you want to know how I knew you were going to break out?" Blaster asked.

 _Well, yes, as a matter of fact… hey…_

"I'm not going to try to capture or trick you," Blaster said. "You broke out so you kind of have a right to leave. But I wanted to talk to you before that, if it's all right."

 _He will try to talk me into staying with him, but I've got places to go and things to see.. How_ did _he know I was going to break out, though? And why is he out here alone?_

"Ok," Eject said. "We can talk."

Blaster led the way back toward Keepsake and Cam's house, but they didn't get all the way there before he took a detour and stopped in an empty alleyway.

"So," Eject said. "Aren't your creators going to worry about you?"

"They aren't my creators, I'm adopted," Blaster said. "I'm an orphan and I lived in Iacon Central. I'd break out all the time to go exploring in the city and then bring back things for the other younglings from the outside."

"That's cool," Eject said. _I kind of do that too, with the temple…_

"So I understand the need to be free. Sometimes being here and staying put is hard. But when I disappear from school, Keepsake and Cam really worry."

Eject nodded. "I feel for you. But that doesn't mean I'm going to get myself into a trap like that. You've got a couple of symbiots already, right?"

"Yes," Blaster said. "I do. But I need more. They help me."

 _Help him what? I'm missing something here._ "You said you'd tell me how you knew I was going to break out and why you came by yourself to talk to me."

"Yeah," Blaster said, suddenly not so sure. "I guess the reason I knew was that I heard… I heard you thinking about it."

Eject looked up sharply. _He's…_ "A telepath! You're a telepath?" _Oh Primus! Like the last guardian!_

"So you _do_ know what that is," Blaster said. "I thought… I thought I picked it up from your thoughts. That's why I wanted to tell you."

"Yes!" Eject said. "I mean I don't _know_ one. He offlined… like two hundred vorns ago. My friend Rewind at the symbiot temple knew him, though. Another telepath… that's crazy!"

"Shhh," Steeljaw said. "The temple's a secret, keep your voice down."

"Ok," Eject said more quietly. "Are there others? Were your creators telepaths?"

Blaster shook his helm "I wasn't sparked as a telepath." He didn't like to think about it, much less talk about it. "I was a science experiment."

"Oh," Eject said, "Well, it doesn't matter. You could be the next guardian of the temple!"

"What?" Blaster said.

"You really need to keep your voice down," Steeljaw hissed. "No one is supposed to know about that."

"I have a friend," Eject said. "He lives there. He knew the last telepath, and he'll want to meet you, I'm sure of it! I can bring him here."

"What exactly _is_ this temple?" Blaster said, trying to figure it out. He knew of the existence of the symbiot temple, but no one usually talked about it. Its exact location was known only by symbiots and they were careful not to tell anyone.

"It's where symbiots are sparked," Eject said. "Rewind says the guardians were traditionally telepaths. We haven't had a _real_ guardian since the last one offlined. He knew there was no one to replace him, so he held on for thousands of vorns without fading, but he's gone now."

"Stop _telling_ him things out in the open," Steeljaw said. _It's a secret for a reason. What's wrong with this mech?_

Eject took in a deep vent and let it out. "Sorry," he said. "I'm too excited."

"Can I go to the temple?" Blaster asked quietly.

Eject shook his helm. "I don't think so. At least not without permission from the current steward. But I can go there and tell everyone about you, and they'll definitely want to come talk to you."

"Ok," Blaster said.

"You'll have to let me go, though," Eject said. "And it'll be a long trip unless I can sneak through a groundbridge." _Simfur is a long way away. I haven't been there for… a vorn, I think._

"Fine," Blaster said. "But promise you'll come back with your friend."

"I promise!" Eject said, and then scampered off into the night. Steeljaw and Blaster watched him go.

Blaster hoped the little mech didn't get lost or forget or get in trouble. But there was nothing he could do to ensure that.

"Ok," he said. "Let's go back home and see if we can sneak in without Keepsake and Cam finding out."

Steeljaw followed him down the alley and toward his caretakers' apartment.

They slipped in without being detected, and Blaster stayed up late into the off-cycle, thinking about what Eject had said, and hoping the little mech would come back soon.

But orns turned into decaorns, which turned into quartexes, and he didn't show up.


	17. Secrets (MV 61-83)

Introduction: This is the second of three spare parts chapters about Blaster that take place between the time he was adopted by Keepsake and Cam, and the time that the Decepticons were formed.

* * *

Keepsake stopped and looked down at the ground as the unpleasant prickling sensation in her spark intensified. She looked up at Cam, who met her gaze and sent her a private comm.

" _Can you feel that?"_

" _Yes. He's in trouble."_ Blaster was hurt. She took a deep vent, trying to stay calm. _"I'll contact the school."_

" _Hold on, they're already trying to comm. me."_

Keepsake shuttered her optics, trying to send comfort over the guardian bond as the feeling intensified further. She prayed to Primus he hadn't gone missing. If the government had found him…

"Everything OK?" Lakes asked.

"Blaster was hurt at school," Cam said, then spoke over the comm. _"Keepsake, they're saying he won't let the medic touch him."_

That… actually wasn't too surprising. "Lakes, can I go take him home?" She said. "I'll come back…"

"Of course you can," Lakes said. "I hope he's all right."

"They said it's not too bad," Cam said. "But you should probably go."

"Thank you," Keepsake said, then rushed from the shelter, transformed, and drove to the school as quickly as she could. She commed the secretary, who directed her to the school medic's office.

She found Blaster curled up in a corner of the room while the medic tried to coax him over with a handful of energon treats like he was a symbiot.

"Oh, thank Primus," the medic said. "Are you his femme creator? I was at wit's end. He kicked me in the optic and tried to bite me. Is he always like this for medics?"

"Blaster, sweetspark," Keepsake said.

He uncurled a little.

"That hand must hurt, poor thing," the medic said. "Do you think you could get him to hold still while I fix it?"

His hand looked dented, and she could see a streak of energon on it.

"No!" Blaster said. "Please, Keepsake, don't let her touch me."

Keepsake approached slowly. That hand _did_ look painful. He _would_ need to see a medic about it.

"Please…"

"Thank you so much for trying," Keepsake said. "He might be a little too upset for that right now. We'll take him to another medic." _Don't worry, Blaster, I won't let anyone hurt you._ This was serious, though. That hand wouldn't heal on its own, and she was certain it was painful. "Come on, Blaster."

She waited as he uncurled the rest of the way, and then cautiously got to his pedes. She let him come to her, and then pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him.

"What happened?" she asked.

"They were just playing at recess, and he got a little trampled," the medic said. "I managed to scan it, and it's not as bad as it looks."

Blaster shuddered.

 _It's OK, mechling, let's take you home._ "Well, thank you again. I'll take him from here." She let go of Blaster and led the way out of the school, then transformed. Blaster climbed into her alt mode and was silent all the way home, even when Keepsake's thoughts turned toward finding a medic for him.

Once they were home, she led the way inside. Steeljaw and Ramhorn were glad to see him and after exchanging sympathies about his hand, they followed him to the front room and both climbed into his lap.

Keepsake joined them with a cube of energon, which she handed to him.

He took it but only drank a mouthful before offering the rest to his symbiots.

Keepsake sat down on the floor next to him. "How about… Ratchet."

"No!" Blaster said. "No, not him."

"That school medic… she wasn't going to _hurt_ you, was she?"

He shook his helm. "She just wanted to help."

It was understandable that he didn't like medics. No one would, after what had happened to him. "Doesn't your hand hurt, though?" _A medic would be able to make it feel better._

Blaster wrapped his arms around his knees. "Keepsake?" he spoke so quietly she almost couldn't hear.

"Come here."

He climbed into her lap with his symbiots and she wrapped them all in her arms.

"What is it, mechling?"

"I was awake," Blaster said quietly. "I was awake the whole time."

Keepsake shuttered her optics. _Oh, sparkling…_

"They didn't put me in stasis, they just held me down and cut my helm open…"

"Shhh," Keepsake said. "It's ok. We won't take you to a medic if you aren't comfortable going." _I'm so sorry that happened. We'll make sure it never happens again._

"Thank you," Blaster whispered.

Cam commed her and she answered.

" _Is he all right?"_

" _In a manner of speaking. He has a serious phobia of medics, though, and I can't say I blame him. I don't think we can take him to a medic, but his hand is hurt and I don't think it will heal on its own."_

Blaster took in a shaky vent and let it out slowly.

" _Is he there with you?"_

" _Yes,"_ Keepsake said. _"I don't want to leave him here by himself. Can you make excuses to Lakes for me?"_

" _Ok..."_ He sounded hesitant about something. He probably wanted to insist that Blaster go see a medic. But Keepsake did _not_ want to discuss that right now.

"It's ok," Blaster said at length. "I know I need to…" he shuddered again.

"Hush," Keepsake said. "We'll figure it out, sweetspark." He was such a good little mech. He'd probably be willing to try to sit still if the medic was someone he trusted…

"How about… how about Lakes?"

Blaster seemed to consider that. Keepsake waited, glad he'd calmed down. She'd have to talk to Cam about what he'd just told her, sometime when they were out of hearing range, because if she thought about it now, she'd be absolutely horrified and she didn't want to make Blaster feel worse. For now, he just needed her to be calm and promise him that everything would be OK.

"Lakes knows there's something about me you can't tell him," Blaster said. "If you ask him to fix my hand, he'll ask you about it."

"But would you let Lakes repair you?"

Blaster nodded. "And I trust him, if you want to tell him. But if he knows… it'll make things harder for him, like it does for you."

"Ok," Keepsake said, then commed her sparkmate. Cam answered in less than an astrosecond.

" _How are things going?"_ he asked.

" _He says if it was Lakes, he'd be able to hold still."_

Silence. Keepsake could feel her sparkmate's hesitation over the bond.

" _If necessary, you can tell him... Cam, we can't ask Blaster to go to a normal medic."_

" _Ok,"_ Cam said. _"Are you sure about Lakes?"_

" _Yes,"_ Keepsake said. _"If you can, try to keep the mind-reading part from him, but if not… Blaster says he's trustworthy."_

" _Ok,"_ Cam said again, then a moment later. _"How's Blaster?"_

" _He'll be fine."_

" _All right. We'll come as soon as we can."_

She let him be the one to cut the comm. then went back to talking to Blaster, trying to get his mind off of his injury, because the tension in her guardian bond meant that even though he was calm now, he was still in pain.

* * *

Cam took a deep vent and approached the shelter manager.

Lakes looked up from the report he was writing on a datapad. "You need to go?" he asked. "Is Blaster all right?"

"Yes," Cam said. "I mean, no, and sort of. He won't let any medic touch him."

"Hmm…" Lakes frowned. "Any idea why?"

Cam initiated an internal comm. with him.

Lakes raised an optic ridge but answered. _"What is it?"_

" _We were hoping you'd be willing to come look at him. He said he'd be able to hold still for you."_

Lakes looked somewhat suspicious. _"I understand some younglings are afraid of medics, and I don't want to tell you how to raise him, but I think you ought to be trying to help him overcome the phobia, not catering to it, unless there's some other reason…"_

Cam hesitated, then sighed. _"There is… we want to draw as little attention to him as possible, and besides the phobia's more real for him. He… you know he was in an orphanage before we adopted him. Well, we didn't get him straight from the orphanage…"_

Lakes looked up. _"What do you mean?"_

" _The government took him from the orphanage, along with a bunch of other mechlings, and they were doing experiments on them."_

Lakes' optics widened.

" _He's the only one who survived. He escaped, actually, and Soundwave and his friends found him. That's how we ended up with him."_

Lakes looked down again.

" _It's all right if you want no part in this."_

" _I knew there was something about him you weren't telling me,"_ Lakes said. _"But this… I didn't expect anything like this. Give me a few breems to think about it, all right?"_

Cam nodded, and ended the comm.

They went about their work. Cam wondered what Lakes was thinking, and almost wished that he could read minds too.

It was almost a joor before Lakes finally brought the subject up again.

"Cam?"

Cam looked up. "Yes?"

"After we've closed up for the off-cycle, I'll go take a look at Blaster's hand."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. But… I do expect a complete explanation."

Cam hesitated.

"That's the only way I'll agree to help."

"All right," Cam said. "Then we'll tell you everything."


	18. The Guardian of Lesser Sparks (MV 61-83)

Introduction: This is the third and final chapter (for now) about Blaster. It happens some time during the later parts of Many Voices... yeah, that's about all.

* * *

"But everyone _else_ gets to go on walks."

"Well, they don't slip their leashes and run off," Lakes said. "Or bite mecha."

The toothy lizard-shaped symbiot pouted. It looked so ridiculous that Lakes's schooled, stern expression almost broke.

"Ok," he said. "Back in your cage, femme."

She sighed. "It's not fair."

"No one gets to go out this orn anyway." He glanced over at where Keepsake was cleaning out a cage. A symbiot had been brought in two orns ago suffering from the final stages of a fatal virus. Lakes had managed to keep the poor thing quarantined, but hadn't been able to save him, and now that he was gone, they needed to clean everything and make sure none of the others had contracted the disease.

"Come on, I'll be good this time."

"No," Lakes said. "Back in your cage, so I can get through all the check-ups I need to. Please?"

The door slid open and Goldsky stuck her helm in. "Uh… hey, Lakes?"

"Hang on an astrosecond," Lakes said as the lizard symbiot slunk off the table and climbed into her cage where she curled up, wrapping the tip of her tail around her snout and pouting at him even more dramatically.

He shut the cage door and crossed the room to talk to Goldsky. "What?"

"Couple of symbiots showed up wanting to talk to you."

Lakes raised an optic ridge. That was unusual. They very rarely turned themselves in, though he'd had a few come out of desperation, preferring captivity to starvation.

He followed Goldsky out to the front desk.

Two mech-shaped symbiots stood on the ground in front of the desk, looking up at him.

"Good orn," Lakes said. "Hang on… I know you."

The little blue and yellow mech on the left grinned at him.

"You're the one who broke out of here… Eject, was it?"

"Hey, you're good!" Eject said. "You remembered my designation."

"You made an impression," Lakes said. "I'm surprised you came back to turn yourself in."

"Oh, I'm not turning myself in," Eject explained. "I just didn't know how else to find that mechling. The tele—"

"Hey!" Lakes cut him off, glancing at Goldsky, who was watching them with one optic ridge raised.

"What mechling?" she asked. "Blaster? Tele-what?"

Lakes took in a deep vent and sighed it out. Goldsky was a little bit too much of a gossip. It wouldn't be safe to let her in on the secret.

"Come with me."

"What's going on?" Goldsky said.

"Goldsky, can you go in there and tell Keepsake to come meet me in the storage closet. There's something she should know."

"Um… ok… you know I already thought this was weird, but… were you expecting these two?"

"No," Lakes said. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but I need to talk to them privately."

"Ok," Goldsky said. "I'm going to be really curious, though, just so you know."

"That's why you're going to be watching everyone while Keepsake's talking with these symbiots and I."

She pouted.

"Please?"

"Fine."

The two symbiots followed Lakes into the storage chamber. He sat down on a crate, and then offered to help them up onto the next crate over. The darker-colored one who hadn't spoken yet accepted his help, but Eject scrambled up on his on and then sat with his legs dangling over the side, looking pleased with himself.

"Are we waiting for someone?" the quieter mech said, meeting Lakes's optics calmly.

"Yes."

"Very well."

Lakes studied the quieter symbiot as they waited for Keepsake to show up. He looked very well cared for. He was mostly black, with a little yellow and red, and he appeared to have a comm. You had to get special permission for symbiots to get mecha upgrades like that. The little mech held himself with confidence too. This was no stray.

Keepsake came in. "What is it?" she said. "What's going on? Goldsky looked a little unhappy about something… oh, hello, I remember you."

"Wow," Eject said. "You actually remember me? I caused _that_ much trouble?"

"You hurt my youngling's feelings," she said.

"Apparently, Blaster told this symbiot some things," Lakes said.

Keepsake looked at him.

"He told me he's a telepath," Eject said.

Keepsake's optics widened. "What, but… when? I was there the whole time you were talking to him."

"When I escaped," Eject said. "He came to the symbiot shelter and caught me on my way out. I told him I'd go bring back my friend to talk to him. It took me a long time, but I did it." He smiled.

"He… what?" Keepsake said.

"You might want to talk to Blaster about that," Lakes said. "I don't know how he decided Eject was trustworthy, but he should have given more thought to it. The little mech almost told Goldsky out there."

Keepsake put a hand to her faceplate. "That mechling… we've talked to him about sneaking out too..."

"I'd be more worried about him telling mecha than him running off," Lakes said.

"Right." Keepsake knelt on the ground so she could look Eject in the optics. "Little friend, what my mechling can do is a secret. If you go around telling mecha about it, he could get hurt. Do you understand?"

Eject's shoulders scrunched up and he looked down. "Sorry," he whispered.

"I need to speak with him," the other symbiot said. "The telepath."

"No," Lakes said. "I don't know what interest you or whoever owns you has in him…" This could be very bad. If other mecha knew about Blaster… "Who are you anyway?"

"Oh, I apologize," the symbiot said, looking a little less sure of himself now. "I'm… my designation is Rewind. I'm here on an errand to speak with the telepath. Eject said he was willing to talk to me."

Lakes looked at Keepsake, who shook her helm.

"What do you want with him?"

"I can't tell you," Rewind said.

"Look," Lakes said. "First off, there's no way you're getting to talk to him. Secondly, symbiots can't be wandering around unsupervised, and the law doesn't permit you to run official errands."

"I do have an owner," Rewind said, pulling a small datapad from subspace. "I have documentation."

"Not good enough."

"This is not an official errand," Rewind said. "I'm not trying to buy anything or make a business offer. Furthermore, it's not something I can speak openly about."

"You sound pretty smart, for a symbiot," Lakes said. "Can you imagine how that might seem suspicious to us? Who is your owner?"

Rewind held out the datapad. "She would have accompanied me if she wasn't too busy. You can contact her if you want."

Lakes turned the datapad on and skimmed its contents. It didn't have very much information on it. Just a designation, a comm. code, and an address in an outer sector of Simfur. "We won't let you talk to Blaster," he said. "Especially if you won't tell us what this femme wants with him."

"She didn't _send_ me," Rewind folded his arms. "That's just documentation so you know you can't legally kidnap me."

Lakes looked back down at the datapad.

"I understand why you'd be concerned for this mechling—Blaster's safety," Rewind said. "But… there's a role that a telepath would traditionally fill, and I want him to know about it. If he's willing, when he's old enough… we could truly use his help."

Lakes met Rewind's optics. Some of the symbiot's calm had been replaced by a sort of desperate conviction.

"Lakes, I don't like this," Keepsake said.

"Hang on," Lakes said. "I've got a couple of questions. Cam was coming back, right?"

"Well, yes," Keepsake said. "He should be back in a few breems."

"And Blaster's coming here after school?"

"Yes, but…"

"Maybe we should hear them out."

"What?"

"I'm not sure if he really knows what he's talking about, but did you hear what he just said? Rewind, you mentioned other telepaths? But surely we would know if other telepaths existed, especially if they have some sort of role…"

"There was _one_ telepath, hundreds of vorns ago," Rewind said. "The rest of them were killed during the last of the Quintesson wars."

Lakes frowned.

"I'm well-versed in history," Rewind said.

"Huh," Lakes said. "That's not what they teach in schools, and I've never read a history book that mentions anything about telepaths.. Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely," Rewind said. "I originally belonged to the last telepath. He told me…"

"Wait," Lakes said. "How old are you?"

"Three hundred and twelve vorns old," Rewind said.

Lakes frowned. Normally if a symbiot had a good relationship with their owner, then they'd fade when that owner offlined.

The door opened, startling them all.

"What's going on?" Cam asked. "Goldsky said you were in here talking to some symbiots."

"You know what?" Lakes said. "I'll leave you to talk about it, since it's your decision. I've got to get back to work. Keepsake, do you want the symbiots here, or..."

"Take them with you. Cam and I should talk privately about this."

"Come on," Lakes beckoned.

Rewind and Eject seemed hesitant, but they followed him out of the storage room. He led them into the main room, where Goldsky was standing with her arms crossed, watching all the symbiots in their cages. She turned to look at him when he came in.

"So... what's going on?"

"It's not my place to say," Lakes told her. "I'm sorry, Goldsky. You can try asking Keepsake about it." Maybe Keepsake would be able to come up with something that would satisfy her.

"Whatever," Goldsky said. "I'm going back to the front desk."

As she left, Lakes realized that an unusual hush had come over the normally noisy room, and all of the symbiots were crowding the front bars of their cages, staring...

Lakes looked down as Rewind stepped forward with a shocked, almost horrified look on his faceplate.

"Rewind?" one of the symbiots asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Rewind said.

The room erupted with noise. All of the symbiots banged on their cage walls, calling out his designation, reaching through the bars at him.

What on all of Cybertron...?

Rewind turned to look at Lakes with a bitter accusation in his optics. Lakes could barely hear his words, but he could still make out the symbiot's question.

"You keep us in cages?"

It felt like a slap to the faceplate, and Lakes looked away for a moment. It wasn't as if he had a choice. There were far too many of them to let them run around the shelter. Besides, he had to follow the rules.

When he looked back, Rewind had already turned away again, and was walking toward the nearest cage. The room quieted a little, and Lakes watched and listened in awe as Rewind talked to each of the symbiots, calling most of them by designation, asking them questions about whether they were all right, and how they'd ended up in the shelter.

After a few breems, though, he remembered how much work he had to do, and went to get the next symbiot out for a check-up.

* * *

Blaster burst through the doors of the symbiot shelter.

"Slow down, sweetspark," Goldsky said, but he rushed past her through the door.

"Eject!" he said. "I thought you weren't coming back!"

"There you are!" Eject was sitting on a shelf in an open cupboard. "And I _told_ you I would. Rewind, that's him."

Blaster turned to look at Lakes's table, where the other new symbiot was standing.

 _He really is just a youngling,_ Rewind thought. _And… are you really a telepath?_

"I am," Blaster said.

 _I can barely believe it… even after Eject told me, I wasn't sure._

"Mechling, be careful," Lakes said. _You can't respond to mecha's thoughts. We don't want anyone to figure it out._

Keepsake and Cam were both thinking along the same lines.

"Blaster," Keepsake said. "We need to talk with you." _Didn't we already have multiple discussions about consulting us before telling anyone?_

"I need to speak with you as well," Rewind said with a bow. "It's an honor to meet you."

Blaster shook his helm. "No, I'm just… really, don't do that."

"Sorry," Rewind said standing straight again. _I'm being too formal… I just don't know how to act._

"Keepsake and Cam, why don't you take the rest of the orn off?" Lakes said. "Take these two symbiots home with you and figure out what they want and what you're going to do about it."

"Are you sure?" Cam said.

"I'll manage by myself for the rest of the orn, yes," Lakes said. "Go ahead."

"Lakes?" Rewind said. _I think I hurt his feelings earlier…_

"Yes?" Lakes said. _This symbiot is just full of more and more surprises..._

"I misjudged you at first. I apologize." Rewind looked around the room sadly. "I am sorry to see my mecha in cages, but I can tell you're doing your best to take care of them, and they seem to trust you."

Lakes looked down. "Thanks. We can't do much, but we _do_ try."

 _Things shouldn't be this way._ Rewind thought. _They don't have to be, but they always have been. They'll always treat us like we're not worth as much as they are. Just because they've got bigger processors and more powerful sparks… But there's nothing I can do about that. Maybe having a telepath in the temple again will help. I know they tried to change things in the past before he gave up on everything…_

"Come on," Keepsake said. "Let's get going."

Blaster waved to Lakes, and then followed his caretakers out. He rode in Cam's alt mode, and the two symbiots rode in Keepsake.

This was going to be really exciting. He already knew some of what Rewind was going to say, though he wasn't sure how Keepsake and Cam would react.

They got to the apartment, and Blaster jumped out of Cam's alt mode and went to put in the code to open the door.

Ramhorn was waiting just inside to welcome him. He picked the heavy symbiot up and carried him into the front room where Steeljaw was sitting on the couch.

"Guess what happened this orn?" he said. "You'll never guess, Steeljaw."

"Um…" Steeljaw said. "You… went to school?"

"No, I do that _every_ orn," Blaster said.

"But I guessed right," Steeljaw said. "Because you _did_ go to school."

"Well, yeah," Blaster said.

Keepsake and Cam were in the hall now.

Steeljaw wasn't going to have time for another guess. "Eject came back!"

"Who?" Steeljaw said. "Oh, that one symbiot." _The one who couldn't shut up about the temple. I didn't like him very much._

Keepsake and Cam came in. Cam sat down on the bench with a sigh. "Ok," he said. "Let's hear this."

Rewind and Eject came in as well, followed closely by Keepsake.

Steeljaw gasped. _Primus, it's him._ He leaped down from the bench and bounded across the room to crouch in front of Rewind, bowing his helm.

"Sir," he said. "I didn't realize you'd actually… _come_ here." _This apartment is so small and broken down. It's embarrassing…_

Ramhorn also wiggled out of Blaster's arms and loped over to Rewind.

"Rewind?" he said.

"Hello," Rewind smiled. "Your designation was… Steeljaw, right? And Ramhorn? I'm sorry for intruding."

"No!" Steeljaw said. "I mean, yes, that's my designation, but you're not intruding, you're always welcome."

Cam coughed quietly. _This is_ my _house, Steeljaw._

 _Who_ is _this symbiot?_ Keepsake wondered. _So many of the symbiots at the shelter seemed to know him too..._

"Rewind?" Blaster said.

"Yes?" Rewind looked up at him.

"Keepsake and Cam are trustworthy. If they make a promise, they'll keep it. Is it all right if they hear what you came to talk to me about?"

Rewind hesitated, then nodded. "So long as you both promise to keep it a secret."

"I promise," Cam said. _I was concerned for Blaster's safety at first, but I really want to know what's going on. I want to know why all of these symbiots know him._

Keepsake hesitated. "I'm a little concerned," she said. "I don't want anything to put Blaster in danger."

"It isn't the kind of secret that puts us in danger," Blaster said.

"That's not entirely true," Rewind admitted. "To be honest, there are always mecha who mean us harm. If they found out that you know, you might be targeted… but that isn't very likely."

 _I don't like all these secrets. First Soundwave and Blaster, and now this. What have we gotten ourselves into? I always thought Searchlight was a difficult mechling to take care of, but this is on a completely different level._

"Keepsake?" Cam put an arm around her shoulders. "If you want, you can leave, and I'll have this conversation with them. I'm sure Blaster already knows whatever Rewind has come to tell us, so we're the only ones who'll be in more danger."

"You're right," Keepsake deflated. _I just don't like this._ "I guess we're already not safe. I promise to keep your secrets, Rewind."

"Thank you," Rewind said. "Do you know about the symbiot temple?"

Keepsake glanced at Cam, who leaned forward.

"Not much, though I've heard of it," he said. "Isn't it like the Temple in Simfur?"

"It's different," Rewind said. "But it does have an Allspark reflector, like that temple. It is where all symbiots are sparked."

Keepsake's optics widened. _I always wondered…_

"Before the final Quintesson war, the symbiot temple was always overseen by a telepath guardian," Rewind said. "But all of the telepaths were offlined in that war, except for one. And he offlined about two hundred vorns ago. Since then we've had two stewards, but… it is harder for them. There are things they can't do, that our guardian could…"

Silence fell for a few astroseconds as Keepsake and Cam thought about it.

"So," Cam said at length. "Let me see if I can piece this together… there used to be a telepath at your temple... and so you want Blaster to come fill that role?"

Rewind nodded. "We need him. There are things he would be able to help us with." _I still can hardly believe this is happening. I have another chance though. This time… this time maybe I'll be enough._

 _I wonder if we should tell him about Soundwave,_ Cam thought. _This seems like something he'd be more interested in. And he's an adult in any case. If they need help…_

"It wouldn't have to be right away," Rewind said. "In fact, I'd like to get to know you all before any of us make that decision." _I need to be sure they're trustworthy before I take them to the temple itself._

… _Soundwave is busy with that rebellion in Central. And we still don't know exactly how trustworthy this symbiot is. We can't share Soundwave's secret without his permission, and we can't share this mech's secrets either._

"So you're going to stay here?" Blaster said.

"If it's all right. The current steward of the temple can provide compensation for any costs that might arise."

"I'll stay too," Eject said. "For now, at least."

"Hold on," Cam said. "You can't just invite yourselves into my home to stay."

"Pleeeease?" Blaster said. "I wanted more symbiots. Soundwave has four, I should have four too."

 _Keep Soundwave out of this please._ Cam thought.

Oh. Right.

"They can stay," Cam said out loud. "At least for now."

"Why do you need a telepath though?" Keepsake asked.

"They're better at understanding," Rewind said. "And… it's hard to explain. There are many reasons." _Symbiots are hard for mecha to understand. And there's the issue of the protoforms. The reflector gives them sparks at random, and there are so many, and we have to find them right away and get them upgrades and energon before they offline…_

 _That wasn't a very satisfying answer,_ Keepsake thought.

"Look," Cam said. "I don't think we can make any promises. Blaster is his own mech, and when he grows up, he may or may not want to be in charge of your temple. But you're welcome here as long as you want to stay, and if it's something he wants to do, we'll support him." He smiled slightly in Blaster's direction.

"Thank you," Rewind said.

Silence fell.

"But I have a lot of questions," Cam said. "How much can you tell us?"

"Not much more than I already have," Rewind said. "At least not right now."

"You're tired," Blaster said. "You and Eject have been traveling for a long time. Do you want to rest?"

Eject stretched and looked around the room, gaze finally coming to rest on the holoscreen "I'm not _that_ tired."

"I'm tired," Rewind said. _It's been a long orn._

"I'll show you where Blaster's room is," Steeljaw got to his pedes.

"If… that's all right?" Rewind looked to Blaster.

"Yeah," Blaster said. "Go ahead."

They left and silence fell again.

"Keepsake?" Blaster said. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm sorry, I just… it seems like so many things are happening at once and I don't understand any of it."

Cam nodded. "It'll work out," he said.

"And I really don't know what to make of this Rewind… he's like a symbiot celebrity or something."

"He's like their caretaker," Blaster said. "He helps raise them at the temple."

"Right," Keepsake said, shaking her helm. "I probably just need some time to process this."

"I think we all do," Cam said. "But since we've got the rest of the orn off, shall we do something together to get all of our processors off of this insanity?"

"In a bit," Keepsake said. "Right now I need to think."

"We could play a game," Blaster said. "Or go to the park."

"A walk sounds nice," Keepsake said. "Just the three of us. We can leave the symbiots here."

"Sounds good," Cam said, getting up. "Let's go for a walk."

* * *

1\. It's really too bad Soundwave didn't find out about this when he was younger. He would have loved to be the guardian of the temple when he grew up. That would have been great... oh well.

2\. In case you're wondering, I do have a TON of backstory in my head about the last Quintesson war. Yoketron was involved (he totally saved the world), and there were telepaths, and a bunch of other random canon characters who I decided to stick back in ancient times, and the thirteen were there, and it was exciting. I'll get around to writing about it eventually, after I'm done writing the current war... and then a couple of future wars...

3\. So, I realized I have 2 spare parts chapters left to post before I start Revolution (the sequel to Many Voices), but there are 3 weeks in between now and January... so I'm open to suggestions, if anyone has any. If not, I'll either think of something on my own, or skip a week somewhere.


	19. Guests (MV 83-Rev 1)

Introduction: The events in this chapter happen in between Many Voices and Revolution. The two scenes aren't connected at all, I just stuck them together because they were kind of short on their own.

* * *

Mirage stepped from the transport onto the familiar balcony. Unlike his tower, this one was occupied by several noblemechs, each owning an entire floor or two, or three in a few cases. He'd grown up just one tower over from this one, in a similar situation. It had been his creator's creator's decision to bequeath the family mod to him that had given him the right to his own private tower.

The balcony door opened, and a servant let him in with a deep bow.

"Milord," he said. "You are expected. Please follow me."

Mirage had almost decided to show up invisible, but he knew that would defeat the purpose. It was important to be seen visiting his old friend, because of his own recent actions. It was a statement, and would make an enormous stir. He smiled slightly at the posters, plaques, and medals hanging from the walls as he walked through the tower. This place sparked a good portion of the rumors around Translucentia Heights, with the vast majority of the aristocracy denouncing its occupant for his fraternization with the common classes. In his own way, though, he was one of the most popular and well-known among them.

The servant stopped when they reached the largest sitting room, and stepped to the side, bowing Mirage in.

Mirage walked through the door with a suffering sigh. "Your decorations are as tasteless as usual."

"Almost as tasteless as my choice in house guests," Blurr said with a grin. "And not half as tasteless as yours, apparently. Please, sit down."

Mirage sat on the small couch opposite his friend. "My decorations or my choice in house guests?"

"What do you think?" Blurr said. "Primus, 'Raj, what are you _doing?"_

Mirage reached for a small cube of energon sitting on the table between them. He took it and stared into it, thoughtfully.

" _I'm_ supposed to be the rebellious one," Blurr said. "Is it really true you invited the entire rebellion into your tower?"

"Well, the leadership, at least," Mirage said. "Though they've had a lot of visitors lately, now they're trying to decide what to do next."

Blurr shook his helm. "Why?" he said. "I have to know. And don't make something up, I know you generally play by the rules, and you can't have been _that_ bored."

Mirage smiled slightly. "Maybe I just saw what everyone else is too busy to notice."

"What?"

"Think about it," Mirage said. "Who do I have in my tower?"

"A bunch of glitched revolutionaries."

"Who do I have in my tower, Blurr?"

Blurr frowned. "You have… Optimus Prime."

"The Prime. The first Prime in the past forty vorns owes me a life debt for taking him in."

Blurr seemed to think about it. Then shook his helm. "There's no way you'd have been able to predict that—he wasn't a Prime when you brought them to your tower. We're still friends, right? Can't you just tell me the truth?"

"You're no fun," Mirage said. "How do you know this isn't some sort of sneaky political gamble?"

Blurr crossed his arms. "Just tell me."

Mirage sighed. "It does seem unlike me, doesn't it? I ran into a couple of them a while back at a party. They had managed to sneak in, and were asking for monetary donations. I thought it was quite bold of them—being a rebellion group—to ask for credit from mecha who are supported by the current government. So I did some research, and was even more surprised. As far as I could find, they were just a librarian, an escaped slave, and a handful of Academy students. But they'd been successfully standing up to the Council. And so I kept an optic on them, and when enforcement tried to arrest them at their base and they went into hiding… I saw an opportunity to get my pede in the door."

"I'm… still confused."

"Changes are coming. In fact, they're already here. Everyone else in these towers thinks they're safe, but they're all wrong. We are vastly outnumbered, and credit is a symbol that can lose its meaning. If we want to weather whatever's coming, we're going to need allies among the future leaders of Cybertron."

Blurr stared at him.

"I haven't just allowed them to live in my home, I've allied with them."

"But Mirage…" Blurr said. "This could ruin you."

"Ruin me?" Mirage said. "Of course. I have no doubt that it will. I'm sure I'll be the laughingstock of the Heights once everyone realizes that I'm going to continue to let Optimus and his mecha stay in my tower. But I see something in them and their cause—something I can't afford to ignore."

Blurr watched silently, and Mirage stared into his still full cube of energon for a moment, trying to put words to the feeling. He wasn't sure exactly how to describe it.

He looked up. "Blurr, do you remember when we were mechlings, pretending to be spies, sneaking around the towers, playing war, fighting villains."

"Of course," Blurr said.

"Is that something you're still interested in?"

Blurr shook his helm. "Are you—"

"I am as serious as I have ever been," Mirage said. "Megatron took a large percentage of the common following to Kaon. He'll make war there, and if he's not stopped quickly, he'll spread that war elsewhere. We can sit here and wait in our towers for that war to come to us, or we can do something about it. It won't be as easy or fun as stealing energon treats, but it will have a lot more impact on the world."

Blurr looked down.

"There's a depth to this cause, a reality," Mirage said. "A chance to make a difference, not just a social statement."

Mirage waited a few astroseconds, watching Blurr process that thought.

Then he spoke again. "My coming here in broad ornlight to visit you is going to make big ripples in the rumor pool. I'll be denounced, questioned, examined, and theorized about. It's all part of the game, where they try to figure out how I'm going to spin things to my advantage and whether that's going to work. But this isn't just a social call, Blurr. I don't just want to openly reinstate our friendship. We could use your help."

"My help?" Blurr said. "In the rebellion?"

Mirage nodded once.

"This is a lot to take in," Blurr said. "I'll… I'll have to think about that."

"Think as long as you need," Mirage said, sat back, and sipped his energon. "I've said what I came to say. How are you doing? I presume you won whatever your most recent race was."

"You presume correctly," Blurr said. "I presume you weren't in the audience?"

"Not this time," Mirage said. "I've been busy of late, entertaining house guests."

"You certainly have," Blurr said, shaking his helm. "I… really will have to think about that. What is he like? The new Prime, I mean."

Mirage set his cube of energon down. "Would you like to meet him?"

* * *

It was past regular opening time, but Maccadam had decided to keep his doors shut this orn. He didn't know when or whether everyone was going to show up, or how long their meeting would be, but he didn't want any patrons or employees underpede.

He went and stood by the back door—they had decided that arriving discretely would be best.

Prima and Solus came first and Maccadam let them in.

"Welcome," he said. "It's been too long."

Prima nodded grimly, but Solus pushed past him and embraced Maccadam.

"Far too long, brother," she said, then released him, wearing a troubled frown on her faceplate.

"Do you know if everyone's coming?" Maccadam asked.

"No," Prima said. "Onyx is not coming. And Nexus is otherwise engaged."

"And we don't know about Vector, but we shouldn't wait for him," Solus added.

Something in the wording of that bothered him. "Onyx isn't… why?"

"We'll talk when everyone else is here," Solus said, and from her voice he could tell that whatever was keeping Onyx away was very bad news.

"All right," Maccadam said. "Feel free to go up to the lower hall. I'll wait here for everyone else."

Prima nodded again, and the two of them passed him and climbed the stairs.

They had been out scouring the galaxy for Megatronus. The Fallen had escaped his most recent imprisonment a while back because they hadn't been careful enough about keeping him alive. His spark could be anywhere.

The others trickled in over the next several breems. Onyx, Vector, and Nexus didn't show, just like Prima and Solus had said, so Maccadam followed an abnormally quiet and abnormally late Logos up the stairs.

Silence fell as the two of them sat at the large table Maccadam had set up.

"Is this everyone?" Micronus said. "We're _all_ supposed to be here. Where are the other three? Couldn't be bothered to show up, eh?"

"I'm surprised _you_ bothered," Logos snapped. "I don't think I've seen or heard from you for about twenty thousand vorns."

"Brothers," Prima said sternly.

"Come on," Maccadam said. "We haven't seen each other for ages and the first thing we do is start arguing? You're both better than this."

"We have a lot to discuss," Alpha Trion said. "And I feel as if I'm out of the loop. Do we know where the other three are?"

"Nexus is watching Unicron's planet," Solus said. "It's developed life again."

"Pit, not _again_." Micronus said.

"Well, we'd probably better chuck another rock at it." Amalgamous leaned back in his chair, stretching.

"And risk waking Unicron with Primus the way he is right now?" Logos said.

Maccadam leaned forward. "Don't even think about it. I'm not going to stand for another genocide."

"It wasn't technically genocide," Amalgamous said. "Besides, Primus told us we could—"

"We do not have time for this argument," Prima cut him off.

"And we can't interfere," Alpha Trion put in. "Cybertron is linked with Unicron's planet. We cannot avoid interaction with his dustborn, or his eventual awakening. It is in the Covenant. Don't worry, Alchemist, no one's going to kill off Unicron's developing life this time."

"Nexus is monitoring the situation there," Prima repeated. "And will continue to do so."

"Where are Onyx and Vector, though?" Quintus asked. "Wasn't it Onyx's turn to keep an optic on him?"

"Onyx is dead," Logos said quietly.

"Oh," Quintus raised an optic ridge. "That's unfortunate. Was he killed too recently to have been brought back?"

"We found him just a short while ago," Prima said. "But it appeared that he had been offline for quite some time. Vorns perhaps."

Silence fell. Offline for vorns? That wasn't possible—he would have shown up again. Maccadam stared at Logos, who was looking down at the table with a grim expression.

"But…" Quintus said.

"Primus didn't bring him back," Liege Maximo said. "He's abandoned us to permanently offline like the mortals."

"Don't accuse him of abandoning us," Alpha Trion said. "We don't know why—"

"What about Vector?" Maccadam cut in, not wanting to let that argument start.

"We have no idea where he is," Prima said. "And we haven't been able to contact him. He could be dead as well."

Silence fell.

"What could possibly have killed Vector, though?" Quintus said. "Even Megatronus could never kill Vector."

"We don't know," Prima said.

"Speaking of Megatronus, though," Solus said. "I'm assuming no one was able to find him."

There was a general shaking of helms.

"Has there been any sign of him here?" she asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Alpha Trion said. "Then again, I don't get out much."

"I haven't heard anything either," Maccadam said.

"What about that gladiator who's trying to conquer Kaon?" Amalgamous said. "He calls himself Megatronus."

"That is definitely not _our_ Megatronus," Maccadam put in.

"He fights kind of like him," Amalgamous said.

"No," Maccadam said. "I've seen some of his pit battles. He fights like he was trained by Yoketron… where _is_ that mech by the way? Isn't he supposed to be training Orion?"

"He is shirking his duties," Alpha Trion said. "But he will return now that Optimus has been designated a Prime. My only worry is that we're already too late. Something isn't right with Primus."

Prima nodded. "Do you think it would be good to visit the core?"

"Yes," Alpha Trion said.

"Why haven't you?"

The archivist shrugged uncomfortably.

"I guess we're scared," Maccadam spoke for his brother. "We're not sure what we'll find, and we're not sure we want to know. What if he's… I don't know, dying or something."

"He can't be," Quintus said.

"Oh, shut up," Micronus said. "Onyx is dead, Vector's missing, and Unicron's planet's got life on it again. I wouldn't be surprised by anything at this point."

"Micronus, would it kill you to be polite?" Quintus said.

"It might," Micronus crossed his arms. "Onyx is polite, and he gets killed all the time."

"How dare you!" Logos said. "Our brother is offline, possibly permanently."

Amalgamous snorted. "Calm down, Logos. This'll sort itself out, like it always does."

"Not necessarily," Alpha Trion said. "Have you not been paying attention? The last Prime has been appointed. We have come almost to the brink of Primus's foresight. He did not know the exact outcome of the coming war, only that he would not be able to guide us through it, which is why he gave us the final prophecies in the Covenant."

"You and your book," Micronus rolled his optics.

"The very existence of our world depends on ensuring that things play out according to Primus's plan," Alpha Trion said. "Do not mock it."

"Enough argument," Prima said. "We cannot afford to be contentious."

Everyone fell silent.

Maccadam thought that might be too much to ask. In the early times they had been able to work together, but now there was an eons-long history of hard feelings. He wished Onyx were here to help keep things calm. The mech was the greatest peacemaker in the history of the planet.

And now he was offline. Maccadam had been looking forward to seeing him.

The reality of what Logos and Liege had said started to sink in.

They might never see Onyx again.

"We must make decisions," Prima said. "I believe it is imperative that we prevent Megatronus from meddling during this crucial time. We should continue our search for him."

"We should look for Vector," Logos said. "If we find Vector, and he's still online, he can tell us where Megatronus is."

"It seems to me like we should be focusing on trying to get Primus to speak to us," Quintus said. "Surely he can tell us where Vector _and_ Megatronus are."

"Like I said," Liege growled. "Primus either doesn't care, or isn't capable of speaking anymore. None of us have heard from him for decavorns."

Maccadam bowed his helm, barely listening as his brothers and sister argued about what to do, and who should go where, and whether they should be looking for Vector, and how they should try to track Megatronus down.

He didn't want to leave his establishment. He felt as if, with all of the things that were about to happen, the mecha of the city-state needed this place as a constant—as somewhere they felt safe, somewhere they could go to pretend that nothing had changed and to talk openly with each other.

He didn't want to leave, but they'd probably ask him to help search the galaxy for Megatronus… no, that didn't make sense.

He leaned over and nudged Logos, who also seemed to have given up on the conversation.

Logos looked at him with a bit of a sad smile.

"Why are we looking for Megatronus out in the galaxy again?" Maccadam said.

Logos sighed, pouting slightly. "Because Prima doesn't listen to me."

"Right," Maccadam said, then stood. "Hey!"

The table quieted, and several of his siblings shot annoyed glares at him.

"Are we at war?"

"What?" Amalgamous asked.

Maccadam slammed his fists on the table with a bang. "I said are we at war?"

"With each other?" Quintus asked.

"No!" Maccadam said. "With this situation! Is this a family squabble, or are we fighting against something external?"

Everyone looked at each other.

"Well," Alpha Trion said, "Vector has gone missing, the final chapters of the Covenant are fast-approaching, Megatronus is on the loose somewhere, and Primus has stopped talking to us. I'd say that warrants a war of some sort."

"Alright!" Maccadam said. "We're at war. Is everyone in agreement?"

"Alchemist, you've lost it," Amalgamous yawned.

"No, I think he's onto something," Liege said.

"If we're at war," Maccadam said. "Then we need to act like it. We aren't taking this seriously enough."

"We've been alive too long to take things seriously," Amalgamous said.

"You of all mecha shouldn't preach to us about taking things seriously," Micronus grumbled.

" _I'm_ trying to take it seriously," Quintus put in.

"Will you make your point Alchemist?" Solus asked. "You obviously have one."

"If this situation is serious, we need to be focusing on what's most important, and doing what Primus created us for. Like, for example, maybe we should let the tactician develop our strategy instead of just arguing about who wants to do what."

Everyone looked at Logos.

Prima sighed. "Do you have something to say, Logos?"

"Besides complaining about Onyx being dead," Micronus put in.

Logos ignored him. "Chasing after Megatronus is no longer an effective use of our time and resources," he said. "We need to be monitoring for him here. If he's going to cause trouble, he's either going to cause it here, or on Unicron's planet, and it'll be easier for him to sneak in if we're wandering around aimlessly, looking for him."

"He might be here already," Solus said.

Prima nodded. "Sound reasoning."

"We found Onyx's frame, but not Vector's," Logos said. "Since it was Onyx's turn to keep Vec company, they were probably together when Onyx was killed, but Vector didn't let us know, and we haven't been able to find him or contact him, so he's either dead or incapacitated. Discovering the answer to where he is and what happened to him is extremely pressing. I doubt that Megatronus could have fought them both off, even at his strongest so something else must have happened. We'll have to hope that Primus can tell us, but if he can't, we _need_ to look for Vector."

"So we need mecha monitoring Cyberton, monitoring Unicron's planet, and searching for Vector," Solus surmised.

"Alpha Trion and Alchemist, you have responsibilities here," Logos said.

"True," Alpha Trion said. "I can't leave, I still have to keep an optic on the Iacon High Council."

"Alchemist runs a bar," Amalgamous said. "I wouldn't exactly call that a responsibility."

"Like _you_ do anything," Micronus griped.

"And where exactly have _you_ been the past ten thousand vorns?" Amalgamous folded his arms. "Napping in subspace?"

"Let's let Logos finish," Prima said. "Who do you think should go where?"

Logos nodded. "Prima and Solus, you should stay here on Cybertron, keeping an optic out for Megatronus. Alpha Trion and Alchemist can also stay here and look for him. They both have information networks, but on very different frequencies. Between the four of you, you should be able to keep the planet safe from him. Liege, I'd like you to go and help Nexus watch over Unicron's planet. Keep optics on all sides of it. We don't want Megatronus making contact with the Chaos Bringer, especially right now. Someone should visit the core, and see if we can get Primus to tell us what happened to Vector, but if we can't, then Quintus, Micronus, Amalgamous, and I can split up and search the galaxy for any sign of him."

Amalgamous sighed. "I'm tired of wandering around the galaxy. Do you realize just how much empty fragging _space_ there is out there? With _nothing_ in it?"

"Amalgamous," Prima said. "We've had plenty of time to relax. Too much, perhaps. This has caught us somewhat unprepared, and we need to work hard to catch up with the unfolding events."

Amalgamous rolled his optics.

"Logos's plan is a solid one," Prima said. "Are there any objections?"

Silence fell, though several mecha didn't look happy about it.

"So who's going to visit the core?" Solus asked.

"I will," Prima said, standing.

"I'll go with you," Quintus put in, and got up as well.

"Hey," Maccadam said. "We all just got here, we should probably discuss things…"

"What more is there to discuss?" Micronus said. "I'm going to get a head start looking for Vector."

"Wait." Prima said. "We will visit the core and be back shortly to bring news of Primus's current state. He may be able to tell us where Vector is. Stay here until we return."

They left.

Silence fell again.

"So," Maccadam said. If he didn't start up a conversation, then no one would. "Anyone have any new stories? Anything interesting happen? Logos? Mal?"

"You probably have more interesting stories than the rest of us put together," Amalgamous said. "Since you actually interact with things besides space debris and the occasional large ball of rock."

"Are Unicron's dustborn sentient yet?"

"You should have asked Quintus that. He goes on and on and on about it, and I haven't got a clue what he's talking about."

"It's strange coming back here," Logos said. "After all the time I've been away. Keeping Vector company and then looking for Megatronus. I apologize for not coming to visit, Mac."

"That's all right. So you were watching Vector before it was Onyx's turn?"

"Yes. He was doing very well, actually."

Amalgamous snorted. "No more talk about merging timelines and rewriting the universe and escaping from… what was it again? No, escaping _to_ reality, whatever that means?"

"Don't poke fun at him," Logos glared across the table. "We left him alone for too long after Liege's rebellion."

"So it's our fault now that he went crazy?" Amalgamous said.

"You aren't even in the rotation," Logos said.

"You didn't want me in the rotation."

"Because you don't care about anyone. You'd just wander off and leave him alone again."

"Mal, Logos," Maccadam said. "Please."

"Give it up," Micronus said. "Idiots won't ever stop arguing. Comm. me when Prima comes back." He winked out of existence.

"You're so sensitive," Amalgamous said, leaning back in his chair and putting his pedes up on the table. "Don't get offended so easily, mech."

" _Sensitive?_ " Logos said through gritted denta.

"Hey!" Solus said. "If you two can't be civil to each other, then shut up."

"Or what?" Amalgamous asked with a smirk.

Liege leaned forward. "Or I'll smash that annoying grin off of your faceplate. Let's just talk about something else while we wait."

Silence fell again.

"Are we really… nearing the end of the world?" Logos wondered.

"Maybe," Maccadam said. "It's been a long time in coming. But the signs are here. There are two champions now, like the Covenant predicts."

"It's just another war," Liege crossed his arms. "We've weathered plenty of those before, and we'll weather this one, even if Primus won't help us, even if Vector and Onyx are gone."

Maccadam hoped so.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Yeah... my version of the original 13 is... a family. With drama. So much drama and squabbling. I mean, they can be very solemn and official when occasion dictates. But they're all very... unique people too. If you'll recall, Alpha Trion literally knocked Smokescreen out, shoved an ancient artifact inside of him and stuck him in an escape pod once. He can be _kind of_ crazy, even in canon. There's canon drama too. Liege went off the deep end at one point, not to mention the original Megatronus betrayed them all.

2\. Also, yes, they killed the dinosaurs. It's their fault we can't ride T-Rexes. T-Rex's? T-Rexs? Idk how to spell that I don't think it's a real word.

3\. Can you tell I'm tired? Too much school. Projects. Essays. Finals. Bleh


	20. The Third Option (MV 83-Rev 1)

Introduction: This happens between the end of Many Voices and the beginning of Revolution. Just a little bit of what's happening in Kaon.

* * *

Dried energon stained the walls and darkened the cracks in the treaded floor. It ran freely in the streets as well. Springer had been out there, and had seen it.

He braced himself against the side of the big door to the arena and _heaved._ It slowly slid into the wall grinding as it went. Springer pulled harder until it opened the rest of the way, exposing him to the light of the sun, and the sweet but sickening scent of spilled energon and crushed internals. Corpses had been pushed to the side of the arena and in the middle stood Megatronus. He looked out at the stands as if reminiscing. Behind him, to the right, stood the lanky, faceless mech who accompanied him everywhere now.

"Well," Springer said. "You wanted to see me."

"I wanted to see you a joor ago," Megatronus turned and smiled. "But I'm glad you've finally come. Why so defensive, my friend?"

"Don't know," Springer forced himself to relax a little. "Worried you might want to execute me too, for beating you in that match."

Megatronus snorted. "I won that match."

"I beat you fair and square, Megs," Springer crossed his arms. "So what is it you _do_ want from me?"

"I just thought we'd talk," Megatronus said. "I was thinking of offering you a position."

Springer had worried about that. "I can't."

Megatronus blinked. "Why not?"

"You aren't an idiot," Springer said. "And neither am I. You know I can beat you in a fair fight, so you know I'm not scared of you and as long as I'm working under you I'm going to be threatening your authority. Also I'm grateful to you for freeing me, but I'm not about to pledge myself to a cause devoted to creating chaos and anarchy."

Megatronus frowned. "You would rather take the Council's side?"

"I'd rather take no one's side," Springer said. "Got to have a little freedom. I don't _want_ to kill other mecha for a living anymore."

Megatronus glanced back at his silent shadow, who nodded.

"If you turn my offer down, you'll regret it," Megatronus said. "Because eventually, you will need to take a side, and the other one is none too accepting of former gladiators, if you know what I mean."

Springer met his former rival's optics. This mech could be a force for good if he tried. But there was too much hurt in him, too much bitterness. Megatronus wanted to see Cybertron burn.

"No," Springer said, and turned to walk away.

"I'll let you think about it," Megatronus said. "You have twelve orns. If you aren't with me, you're against me."

Springer walked back through the doors, down the stained hallway and out into the celebrating, rioting city where energon flowed in the gutters and the sky was orange with smoke.

Two orns later found him in Iacon. Maybe Megatronus was right, and he would need to pick a side. If he had to pick between corruption and anarchy, he would pick anarchy. But you heard things, even in the gladiator pits of Kaon.

He knew there was a third option.


	21. Every Intention (MV 10)

Introduction: This happens long before the beginning of Many Voices but you don't meet these characters until chapter 10 so yeah. Just a little bit of fluff. Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

* * *

Cam caught himself staring out the window again and forced his gaze back to the screen of his computer terminal.

Right.

He ran his code for the twentieth time with a sigh, and a couple of error messages popped up.

The same ones that had been popping up for the last joor. He had combed through the whole thing three times and couldn't figure out what the problem was.

"Fine," he muttered, and pushed away from his desk.

He needed some time away from this problem.

He left the computer running, telling himself he'd go for a short walk, and then come back. It was nice to be able to work from home. It meant that no one would know or care if he took a break.

Then again...

He stopped in the doorway. Maybe he should look up those errors on the public database again and see if he could figure out what they meant. He glanced over his shoulder at his tiny, one room apartment. Berth, desk, cupboard—barely enough space to stretch out in. He could touch the desk and the back wall at the same time. It was smaller than the dorm rooms back at I25 Academy, but he didn't want to live anywhere more expensive until he'd paid off his student loans.

In… ten vorns or so.

With a sigh, he turned around again and left.

Three hallways and twelve flights of stairs later, he made it outside into the open atmosphere of Iacon sector twenty six.

The sun skimmed the top of the buildings, which had been built to catch the light and reflect it down to illuminate the ground level. It was clever engineering on the part of the mecha who'd built this sector.

He headed toward a little energon café where he sometimes refueled, though he always felt guilty afterward for spending more credit than absolutely necessary on energon. By the time he neared it, though, he was feeling contemplative, and had decided to walk a little farther.

He had always wanted to work with computers, ever since he was a youngling. Somehow, back then, that had seemed glamorous, and through school he'd worked hard and stuck to his plans.

But now that he'd arrived and had accomplished his lifelong goal, he wasn't so sure about it.

There was nothing left to work toward—nothing left to look forward to, besides a long life of writing code, wondering why it didn't work, modifying it until it did, and then moving on to the next project. He could work his way back into economic stability and get a bigger apartment. But that was a long way off, and didn't really sound that exciting.

He turned a corner, and stepped out onto a raised walkway. Alt modes whizzed past on one side of him—mecha who had places to go and things to do.

Maybe he needed a hobby. Or perhaps he should try to make some friends.

He rounded another corner and decided to double back and make his way home so he could get back to his work. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, though, so he paused on a street corner to remotely access a map from the public database.

Yes, he could take a shortcut down this road and make it home in ten breems or so. Faster if he drove.

He started walking. The buildings here were a little more run down than the way he normally took, and it seemed for every shop or house, there was an empty building or lot. One building in particular caught his attention. The sign on the front read "Outer Iacon Sector 26 Northwest Symbiot Shelter."

A symbiot.

Now there was an idea.

If he got a symbiot, he might not even need to make any friends.

He'd never had one before, though, and he really wasn't sure how to take care of one.

He kept walking, and made it back to his tiny apartment and got back to work, but he kept mulling over the idea, and within a few orns he decided to look into it further.

* * *

"Good orn, femmeling," Turquoise said, sending a chipped smile in Keepsakes direction. Keepsake smiled back at the ancient femme and went over to Lakes's work table where a dented datapad sat, waiting for her. She turned it on and tapped in the passcode.

"It's cage cleaning this orn," Turquoise said. "And there's a couple of new ones came in last off-cycle after you went home, dear."

"Oh," Keepsake said, scrolling through the registry until she found the newest entries. "Yes, I see. Has Lakes seen them yet?"

"No, dear, Chord was the only one in when they were brought, and Lakes hasn't come yet this orn. I was about to start feeding everyone…"

"Of course," Keepsake said, flipping through the files on the datapad until she got to the list of tasks that needed to be done that orn. She committed them to memory and then shut the datapad down and set it back on Lakes's desk.

Turquoise creaked over to the cupboard and opened it to get out a tray of energon cubes. Keepsake went to help her, and then held the tray as the older femme opened the cages one by one, chatting pleasantly with the symbiots as she fed them.

Lakes came in just before they were finished.

"I'm sorry I'm late this orn," he said.

"Sorry doesn't turn the sun backward, young medic." Turquoise raised a rusty optic ridge at him. "Traffic?"

"No, my alarm didn't go off," Lakes said. "Anything exciting happen?"

"We got two new ones."

"Great," Lakes sighed and grabbed his datapad off of his desk. "And it's cage cleaning this orn. I'll do check-ups on those new symbiots while you finish feeding. Turquoise can you sit at the front desk and file the forms after that for the two new ones while Keepsake and I clean cages?

"Hmph," Turquoise said. "Think I'm too old to clean cages now, mechling?"

Lakes smiled at her. "It's regulations to have someone at the front desk."

"I know the regulations, I've been working here longer than you've been alive, you know."

"Mhm," Lakes said, and went to get one of the new symbiots out. The little winged creature backed away from him warily, but he spoke gently to her, and eventually she let him pick her up and carry her to his work table.

Keepsake and Turquoise finished with the feeding, and Keepsake put the rest of the energon away while Turquoise made her way out of the room.

"Has she really been working here longer than you've been alive?" Keepsake asked.

"She's fond of saying that," Lakes said, gently examining one of the symbiot's wings, which Keepsake could see was damaged. "I'm not sure, though. She'd have needed to be working here for about two hundred and fifty vorns, but then again, she _is_ almost six hundred…"

"Ow!" the symbiot squeaked.

"Sorry," Lakes hissed. "So sorry. This wing's pretty dented, but I can fix it for you so it stops hurting. Let's see…"

He pushed away from his desk and pulled a drawer open.

"Do you want me to start cleaning cages? You're not finished yet."

"Clean this one's cage," Lakes said. "And make sure to disinfect everything, I don't think Chord washed her before putting her in there and we don't want another outbreak of energon mites."

"Got it." It was a higher cage so Keepsake dragged a short stepping stool over.

"I don't have mites," the bird symbiot protested.

"Yes you do," Lakes said. "I saw at least three on your hurt wing. Hold still."

Keepsake had just finished cleaning out the cage when the door opened and an unfamiliar mech walked in. She put her cleaning supplies back in the cupboard as he stared around the room, looking overwhelmed.

"Hello," she said cheerfully, approaching him. "Can I help you?"

"Um…" he glanced around once more before finally focusing on her. "The uh… the femme at the front desk told me to come back here."

"Are you looking for a symbiot to adopt?"

"Well, yes, hopefully," he said.

The room filled with noise for several astroseconds as symbiots crowded the bars of their cages, calling out to the mech, trying to get his attention.

He took a half a step back, looking nervous, and Keepsake had to work hard to mask the amusement in her voice. "Don't worry," she said, trying to put him at ease. "They don't bite—well, most of them don't."

"That's… comforting," he said.

Keepsake bit back a laugh. "Feel free to look around, and talk to some of them," she said. "And I can answer any questions you have about them."

He shrugged, looking down, "Well…"

He _really_ didn't seem comfortable. "Have you ever had a symbiot before?" Keepsake asked.

"I haven't," he looked up again. "And I'm not necessarily looking for one right _now_ I just wanted some information about what goes into taking care of them. I did a little research on the public database, but I thought I'd come in and ask mecha who actually take care of them as well. If you have anything I could read about how to care for a symbiot or what to expect from owning one."

"Oh," Keepsake said, impressed. Most mecha didn't even think about that before getting a symbiot for the first time. "Yes, we do, actually. We don't have hard copies, but there is a document I can send you. Come with me."

He followed her out the door and to the front desk.

"Find what you were looking for, mechling?" Turquoise asked.

"I was just looking for information," he said. He seemed much more comfortable out here. Keepsake wondered if he'd really want a symbiot, since he'd seemed so nervous around them. Maybe she could talk him into it, though—they were getting close to capacity, and if she could convince this mech to adopt someone, it would really help.

"Information?" Turquoise said.

"He wants our files on symbiot care," Keepsake explained. "Can I use the datapad?"

Turquoise handed it to her, and she logged in and accessed a spreadsheet.

"If you give us your designation and message account, I can send you what we have," she held out the datapad to him, and he took it and typed in his account on the list.

"Thank you…" she smiled at him as she took the datapad back from him, and then looked down to read what he'd written. "Cam?"

"Yes," he said. "And I'll be back in a few orns to look at the symbiots again."

"Great," Keepsake said. "See you then."

He nodded and left through the front door. Keepsake watched him go, then remembered she had cages to clean, and turned to go back into the main room and caught Turquoise watching her with one raised optic ridge.

"What?" Keepsake said.

"Hmph," Turquoise took the datapad from her. "Nothing."

* * *

The noise in the room and all of the symbiots in cages everywhere had been overwhelming. And then when he read the information they'd sent him, he realized taking care of symbiots wasn't exactly as easy as he'd been hoping. If he got the right one, it would probably be doable, but it would be more of an inconvenience than anything else.

But he had told the mecha at the shelter he'd be back so he figured he ought to at least show up, thank them for the information, and tell them he wasn't really interested.

The place was just as derelict as he remembered it and while the floors and walls were clean, the rafters were rusty and the roof looked like it leaked in places.

This time, the younger femme from the orn before was sitting behind the front desk, reading a datapad with a thoughtful frown on her faceplate. She looked up as he approached

"Oh!" she said. "Welcome back. We're less busy this orn, so I can show you some of the symbiots."

"Actually—"

"I've put some thought into it." She cut him off. "Since you're a first time owner, I went through all the symbiots we have and considered their needs and temperaments, so hopefully we'll be able to find one you connect with who won't give you trouble."

"Um…" Cam said. Now he felt bad that he'd changed his mind about adopting one.

"Come on." She waved him back toward the other room and he followed, trying not to look as reluctant as he felt.

The same two mecha—the mech who'd been repairing a symbiot and the old femme—were in the room, talking quietly.

"Ah," the mech said. "Glad you came back. Turquoise, would you go sit at the front desk while we try and find someone for this mech to adopt."

"If you like," the old femme said, and creaked past them. She had patches of rust on her arms and faceplate, and her optics flickered.

"Is she… all right?" Cam asked quietly.

"She's just fine," the femme said, hands on her hips.

"I'm always telling her she needs to go see a medic," the mech said. "She has to do something about that rust."

"In any case," the femme said. "Do you already have an idea of what you're looking for, or are you open to suggestions?"

Cam gave up. "Suggestions are fine."

She nodded and walked over to bend down and open a cage. "This is our most docile symbiot right now, though she's kind of old and tired, so if you're looking for someone who'll want to go on walks, she might not be right, but she doesn't need that much attention. Her designation is Ruby." She pulled the big, reptilian symbiot out of the cage and handed it to Cam, who took it out of surprise more than anything else. He tensed as it climbed slowly up his arm, but then relaxed when it laid its helm comfortably on his shoulder and stared up at him with deep calm red optics.

"Um… hi." Cam said.

"H'lo," the symbiot slurred, then yawned, showing an impressive row of teeth.

He glanced at the femme, and she looked away quickly with a bit of a smile on her lip plates.

She seemed to think his discomfort was amusing.

He looked back at the symbiot trying not to be nervous. Then, determined to show them all that he was completely fine with this giant toothy monstrosity clinging to his arm, he reached over with his free hand and cautiously stroked the symbiot's back.

Her engine hummed a deep, soothing tone, and Cam stopped, surprised.

"She likes you I think," the femme said. "Give it a few breems and then I'll take her back and let you get to know another one of our symbiots."

Cam went back to stroking the symbiot, who hummed pleasantly and shuttered her optics, slipping into recharge while still clinging onto his arm.

Then the femme took her away and handed Cam a talkative little six-legged symbiot who climbed all over him and begged to be adopted so he could "go all over and see the world."

After the first few, the femme asked him if he wanted to see any more or if he liked one of the ones she'd shown him already. He was enjoying himself by then, so he told her he couldn't decide and would like to see more options. He spent nearly a joor there before finally realizing he needed to leave.

"So," she said, stepping in front of him to block the door. "Which one would you like?"

"You know…" Cam said.

Even after how much fun it was to play with them, he still didn't think he wanted to take one home. But this femme had just spent an entire joor telling him about them and trying to help him decide.

"What?"

"You know, I just... couldn't decide. Is it all right if I come back again another orn and choose?"

"Of course," the femme said. "Whenever you're ready… Cam, was it?"

"Yes," Cam said. "And you?"

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Keepsake."

That was a nice designation. "Good to meet you," he said, and then felt a little foolish since they'd obviously already met each other the orn before. "I mean… to officially be introduced."

She smiled an nodded. "Have a good orn."

"Thank you."

"Come back soon."

* * *

He did.

Keepsake had been suspicious that he wouldn't. She had tried, but though he'd gotten a little more comfortable around the symbiots, she could tell he wasn't really interested.

But then two orns later he showed up again. She re-introduced him to some of the symbiots he'd seen the first time. and then showed him a few others. He handled them well, but once again he didn't seem to connect with any of them.

It was a crying shame—she was certain this mech would make a great symbiot owner. He was thoughtful and responsible and wanted to do things the right way.

He left empty handed yet again, but promised to return.

And again, he came back.

She showed him different symbiots the third time, and she thought she'd almost convinced him to take one home, but when she suggested it, he got uncomfortable again, and told her he couldn't make up his mind.

And he kept coming back.

Some orns, they would chat while she worked. He'd hold symbiots while she cleaned out their cages. Sometimes she brought him while she took groups of symbiots on walks, and they talked. Discussions about symbiot care drifted into other topics such as politics, books, history, school, and technology.

And Cam kept coming back until he knew every symbiot in the shelter, and he still couldn't decide on one.

One orn, he came in at the usual time.

Keepsake smiled and crossed the room to greet him. "We got a couple of new symbiots in last orn after you left. Maybe one of them is what you're looking for?"

"Maybe," Cam said, and let her lead him over to the cages of the new symbiots. She opened one cage and beckoned for the little creature to come out.

"This one's—"

"A little malnourished, it looks like," Cam said, reaching out to gently take the symbiot. Its paint was peeling and its faceplate was wrinkled and corroded.

"Yes," Keepsake said. "So he would need a little extra care and attention, but he's very sweet."

Most mecha would have assumed the symbiot had rust, but Cam had apparently been listening to everything Keepsake had told him.

Lakes came in. "Good orn Keepsake, Cam."

"Good orn," Cam said pleasantly.

Lakes took in a deep vent and got a look on his faceplate like when he had to put a symbiot down. "You know, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Ok," Cam said, shifting nervously.

"As grateful as we are that you're supposedly interested in adopting a symbiot, you really need to make up your processor and move on."

Cam looked down at the creature curled up in his arms, who stared up hopefully at him.

"You come in here every orn and get all the symbiots' hopes up, not to mention you distract my best employee for joors at a time. You can't keep doing that."

Keepsake looked between Lakes and Cam, who were staring at each other as if communicating silently.

She stepped in between them. "It's all right," she said.

"No it's not," Lakes retorted. "I mean, if you'd like to work for us, we're always hiring, but you can't just come in here and waste our time."

"But Lakes…" Keepsake said.

"Don't defend him, thank you," Lakes said. "Cam?"

Keepsake glared at her boss, then looked back at Cam, who made optic contact with her and then sighed and handed her the symbiot.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Wait," Keepsake said, taking the symbiot from him, but also stepping closer.

Cam smiled and shook his helm. "No, that's fine. I'll just… I'm sorry." He turned and left the room.

"He doesn't want me, does he?" the symbiot muttered.

"Hush, I'm sure he likes you just fine," Keepsake said. "Now get some rest. Back in your cage." She put him away and rounded on Lakes. "What was that for?"

Lakes shook his helm. "You _really_ think he was ever going to pick one?"

"Yes," Keepsake said. "I mean… I don't know, but you didn't have to be rude to him like that. He doesn't interfere with my work very much and I think he really just wants to make sure he's picking the right symbiot."

"Is that what you think?" Lakes said.

"Why else would he come back here every orn?"

Lakes raised an optic ridge at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"If he ever comes back, I hope you apologize to him," she said and went back to work. After a few breems, she started feeling lonely. She enjoyed talking to Cam while she worked, and she wasn't sure she liked the prospect of him never coming back. Then again, he hadn't actually _said_ he wasn't coming back.

After a few breems, she found an excuse to go out to the entrance room, just in case he was still there.

"Turquoise, did—"

"Sorry femmeling, he's long gone." Turquoise answered before she could finish asking. "He didn't look too happy either."

"Lakes was so rude to him," Keepsake said. "I can't believe it. I was getting closer to convincing him to chose a symbiot."

Turquoise threw her helm back and laughed, joints creaking and engine guttering.

"What?" Keepsake said. "I really do think he was being honest about wanting a symbiot. I can't imagine why else—"

"Stop usin' your voice box and start usin' your processor, Keepsake," Turquoise said. "Or at the very least, just get back to work. I've got an inkling we haven't seen the last of that mech, so don't worry your pretty helm about it."

"Ok," Keepsake frowned. "Can I have the datapad to take inventory? Lakes is using the other one."

"All right," Turquoise handed it to her, and she took it into the main room to check the supplies in the cupboards.

* * *

Cam made it two orns. He knew they didn't want him at the symbiot shelter anymore. Lakes almost certainly wouldn't throw him out, but Cam knew he'd overstayed his welcome there.

But he owed it to all of them, especially Keepsake, to either adopt one of the symbiots or explain himself, so he couldn't stay away.

He couldn't focus on work, so after several joors of fruitless staring at his screen trying not to think about what he was going to say to Keepsake, he left the house and walked toward the symbiot shelter. He didn't want to go inside and face Lakes's ire, but he knew what time Keepsake got off work, so he figured he could just sit outside and wait for her.

It would give him some more time to think anyway.

It seemed like such a long time ago that he'd first come here, though he knew it hadn't been that long. It was amazing how quickly things had changed and ironic that he'd intended to get a symbiot in order to avoid the need for making friends.

He watched his chronometer as the sun blazed its trail across the sky, and waited for what seemed like joors and joors. Then finally, Keepsake left the shelter.

She called something over her shoulder, and then stepped out into the road with a sigh, looking vaguely unhappy.

"Hey," Cam jogged across the street. Her faceplate lit up when she saw him.

"Cam!" she said. "You know, I just got off work, but I'm sure Lakes and Chord would be happy to help you. I'm very sorry about what Lakes said to you, but don't worry, you're always welcome here…"

"About that," Cam said. "I… need to talk to you."

She frowned at him, then nodded. "All right."

"Are you busy right now?"

"No," Keepsake said. "I'm done for the orn."

"Well, there's a little energon café nearby that might be a good place… I mean, if you'd like to go there."

"That sounds fine," Keepsake said. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"It's this way," Cam ignored her question, and led the way down the street.

She followed him, looking thoughtful. "So… I guess I _am_ curious. Do you think you'd ever have picked a symbiot?"

"Well I didn't..." Cam said. "It's… a bit of an explanation."

"All right," Keepsake said. "I guess I can wait."

"How was work?"

"Good. I always enjoy it. If I'm being completely honest, though, I think I got used to you being there. It's been… different these past couple of orns."

Cam stared at her. Was she saying what it sounded like she was saying?

"In any case, how was your work? Are you still stuck on the project you were telling me about two orns ago?"

"Yes. I haven't made much progress on it to be honest," Cam said.

They slipped easily into chatting as they walked to the café.

"Oh, this place," Keepsake said once it came into view. "I've seen it before—I forgot it was here."

They went in, and she insisted on paying for her own energon, but then followed him to a table.

"So," she said as they sat. "You said you wanted to talk about why you never settled on a symbiot."

"Right," Cam looked into his energon and then met her gaze. "So…"

She nodded encouragingly.

He took a deep vent. "I really should apologize. The second time I came… I had every intention of telling you that I didn't actually want to adopt a symbiot."

Silence fell.

"But then you started handing them to me I didn't want to offend you."

"I'm sorry," Keepsake said. "I think I knew you didn't want one, and that's why I was so pushy. That was wrong of me."

"No!" Cam said. "No, that's fine."

"And… you just kept coming back because you were worried I'd be upset?" Keepsake raised an optic ridge at him.

"No," Cam said. "That was just the second time. That's not why I kept coming back."

"Ok," she sipped her energon. "Why did you keep coming back?"

"Well…"

What had he decided to say to her?

"Well?" she prompted.

"I kept coming back because I enjoyed talking to you."

Her optics widened.

"I don't exactly have a lot of friends here—that's why I wanted a symbiot in the first place. But you're _more_ than just a friend, Keepsake. And we haven't known each other for very long, but I can barely stand to let two orns go by without seeing you. Part of the reason I didn't want to pick a symbiot was that then I wouldn't have an excuse to go to the shelter anymore."

He looked up at her hopefully, and met her gaze.

"Oh," she said, and looked away. "Oh, that…" one corner of her lip plates turned up. "That makes sense. Primus, no wonder Turquoise laughed at me…"

"So," Cam continued. "I wanted to apologize for pretending to want a symbiot. But I don't want to stop seeing you."

His spark pounded as he watched her faceplate. He couldn't read her expression, but she stared right into his optics and he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Then she smiled.

"Ok," she said. "I'm all right with that."

* * *

Notes:

1\. Thanks to novicewriter552 for the idea!

2\. Just a heads-up, Revolution starts next week. :) See you then!


	22. About as Much to Say (Rev 4-5)

Introduction: Takes place sometime after chapter 4 of Revolution.

* * *

Perceptor drove through the streets of Iacon in its perpetual off-cycle dimness. He liked that the sky here never truly got dark, though it did make stargazing difficult.

Even in the gloom, there were many mecha around—the crowded, bustling city didn't ever fully go into recharge.

The noblemech's tower which he'd graciously offered to let them use was becoming a military base now and they needed all the rooms they could get. They hadn't asked Perceptor to leave but he had volunteered, and then insisted. He wasn't sure what he could do to help them at the moment anyway. His expertise was in science, not politics, and certainly not war. He was still disappointed that there was going to be a war in the first place, but there was nothing he could do to stop it now.

He had warned them against bringing that gladiator into this, but then he had been fooled as well when Soundwave had pronounced Megatronus trustworthy. He still couldn't believe his student would choose so wrongly. It was almost enough to make him question…

He came to a stop in front of his own home.

How long had it been since he'd last been here?

It felt like a very long time, but it had only been four or five decaorns, hadn't it?

The door opened for him, and the lights turned on at the tap of a button on the wall, then flickered, then stayed on.

His pedes broke the silence as he walked into the front room, and the quiet made him feel like an intruder in his own house.

It would be different without mecha from Autobot here all the time.

He climbed the stairs, listening to the faint echoes of his motions, and then walked down the hall, past the open door of the old meeting room.

He froze.

Sitting on the table was a mostly empty bottle of clear liquid.

Cautiously, he entered the room. The table had several irregular holes and corroded dents in it where drops of acid had eaten through.

The enforcers had tied him to this table and tortured him.

A thick oppressive silence filled the room. He suddenly wished he'd stayed at Mirage's tower...

"No," he told himself out loud. "They don't have room for me. I've lived here for vorns, this is my home, it just… it just needs a little tidying up." He took in a deep vent, "They didn't bother to clean the acid off of this, so it's ruined now. I'll have to get rid of it. Too bad it's not the one with the wobbly leg Red Alert was so upset about. That would have been convenient."

He picked up the mostly empty bottle of acid off of the table. "And I believe this belongs in my laboratory." He subspaced it. Then studied the table again. "Let's see. Shall I drag you down to the basement or should I put you outside to be taken away to the scrapyard?"

The table didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, so Perceptor turned it carefully on its side and dragged it out the door and toward the stairs. "Off to the scrapyard with you, then," he said. "The basement's too crowded already."

He dragged the ruined table outside, then headed back in. "My table-to-chair ratio is even less optimal now. Maybe I should get rid of some of those too, but then again I have more storage space, without Orion and his friends here, don't I? I can put extra chairs in a spare room somewhere." He sighed and went upstairs. "So much work to do," he muttered. "I should have come back and cleaned up earlier."

Other than the ruined table, the old meeting room was actually very tidy. In fact, the enforcers had kindly cleaned out every single piece of technology, from the holoscreen to the computer stations. "Theft," Perceptor muttered as he set a chair upright. "That government… they never cease to surprise me… oh, my lab!" He rushed from the room to his lab, worried that they'd taken equipment from there as well.

It was a complete mess, but after some quick inventorying, he found that almost nothing was missing. It took him most of a joor to put everything back where it belonged, and by the time he was done, he no longer felt like straightening the rest of the house up. He went downstairs and found some energon in the cupboard—fortunately, that hadn't been stolen either.

He should rearrange all the furniture again. That should keep him busy next orn.

He wondered if the Academy would take him back. He had disappeared for decaorns without any announcement or explanation. Some of his students and peers had probably assumed he'd been arrested or killed by the Council. They wouldn't be too far wrong—he _had_ been arrested after all. Sort of.

He took a deep vent and let it out slowly, then went around the house and locked the front door and the back door and the door coming up from the basement—he had heard about what had happened to the groundbridge and he didn't even want to _look_ at the mess down there.

He checked all the other exits as well, then went back upstairs.

He walked past Soundwave's room and hesitated. He missed that mech, and even his symbiots. Frenzy with his endless questions, and loyal Ravage and clever Laserbeak. He had enjoyed having a student tenant. It had been especially nice because Soundwave usually understood what he was talking about.

Perceptor already missed the rebellion too. He missed having Orion and the others in his home, planning and working and fighting for the rights of their fellow mecha.

But that era was over, and now there was going to be a war. Orion had offered to make Perceptor the Autobots' head engineer, but Perceptor had declined. Everything had changed too quickly over the past several decaorns, and he was tired of trying to keep up.

"Everyone moves on," he said to Soundwave's door. "They always move on and leave me behind. But that's part of being a teacher, I suppose. I should be used to it by now, don't you think?"

The door, of course, had about as much to say in response to that as Soundwave on a quiet day. Perceptor smiled sadly at his unspoken quip and turned to walk toward his room. It was going to be a long off-cycle.


	23. Artifice (Rev 5-7)

Introduction: This takes place some time between chapters 5 and 7 of Revolution.

* * *

Blurr crossed the room, noting how mecha lowered the volume of their conversations as he passed. He could feel a dozen pairs of optics on him and he tried not to look at anyone, but couldn't help overhearing whispered snatches of the discussions around him.

"Was he invited?"

"…that's that racer…"

"…for vorns. I wonder how they got him to come…"

Blurr ignored them and make straight for a solitary table off to the side of the room.

Mirage looked up as he approached.

"Hey, 'Raj."

"Why, Blurr," Mirage gestured elegantly for him to sit. "I haven't seen you at a party for vorns."

"Yeah," Blurr lowered himself cautiously into the seat across from his friend. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Mirage said. "You know, you're the first mech to speak to me all orn. You'd think I'd be offended, but it's been kind of nice, actually. It's given me time to consider things." He picked up a cube of colored energon from the table. "Go ahead, what did you want to talk about?"

Blurr leaned forward on the table, tapping one pede on the ground nervously. He liked some kinds of attention, but he didn't like the way the whole room seemed to hang on to every word of this conversation.

"What?" Mirage said.

He seemed completely oblivious to the hush surrounding their table and the way mecha were drifting toward them, listening carefully. This was probably going to be the highlight of the decaorn for the whole noble class—two popular subjects of gossip coming together in a grand moment of entertainment.

"I meant, can we talk somewhere else?" Blurr said.

"Why?" Mirage said, sipping his energon. "If you needed to talk about something privately, you could have done so before the party."

"I couldn't _find_ you earlier," Blurr said.

He was worried. Mirage hadn't been acting like himself since he'd invited the Autobots into his tower. Blurr could understand that to some extent—especially after talking to the Prime. He'd been impressed enough to join the Autobots himself.

But Mirage giving up his entire fortune…

Something was wrong.

"Well, you can talk to me afterward, then," Mirage said dismissively, and louder than the occasion dictated. "I'm determined to enjoy this party and I'm not leaving."

"Uhuh," Blurr said, looking at the mostly empty cube of energon in his friend's hand. "And how much high grade have you had?"

Mirage leaned toward him with a conspiring smirk. "You know, it's hilarious I even got invited."

Blurr frowned.

"It just goes to show, it's all fake. It's all about what you know and what you _don't_ know. It's all in the way we act."

Blurr narrowed his optics. "What are you talking about?"

What was he doing? It was like he was _trying_ to start rumors about himself—trying to cause a stir? Maybe this was some act of politics that was beyond Blurr's comprehension.

No… this was something else. What Mirage had done two orns before—handing everything he owned over to the Prime—was not politics. That was unthinkable, unheard of. Blurr had joined the racing leagues to get away from all the confusion of high tower life, but he was still nobility. As much as he disliked the culture he'd grown up in, he was still very much a part of it.

Mirage, on the other hand, _liked_ politics. He _liked_ fancy parties and all of the scheming and double-crossing and gossiping. So why would he give it up?

"What am I talking about?" Mirage echoed. "Oh, Blurr, you never understand anything. I said all of this…" he gestured around at the fancy tables, the servants carrying trays of many-colored energon cubes, the wall hangings and the fancy crystal decorations. "…is an illusion. You can't see through it, can you? You're blind to it just like everyone else."

Blurr glanced over at the neighboring table, where all of the mecha were very carefully trying to look like they weren't listening.

"Mirage, can we talk somewhere else?" Blurr repeated.

Not that they'd necessarily have a productive conversation since Mirage seemed somewhat overcharged.

"Why?" Mirage said. "Why bother? I know you don't care about what all of these mecha think."

"But _you_ care," Blurr said. "Don't you?"

Mirage sighed.

"I'm a little worried," Blurr said.

Mirage met his optics. " _You?_ Worried about my social status? Look… it's none of your business what I do or why." He looked suddenly solemn and sober. "I don't know whether you would understand anyway. Please don't ask me to explain."

Even the whispers in the room died out for a moment.

Fine then. Blurr sighed and got up from the table. "Okay. You don't have to tell me, mech. Just so long as… everything's all right."

"I'm fine," Mirage said. "Thank you for your concern."

Blurr nodded and left the party. A low, excited babble filled his audios as he stepped through the doorway into the hall.

He wondered whether the other party attendants would be able to make some sense of the conversation, because _Blurr_ had no idea what Mirage was getting at.

Fake? An illusion?

Was the mech only realizing this _now?_

High tower life had _always_ felt stale and artificial to Blurr.

He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall as it started down toward the ground.


	24. Humiliation (Rev 7-8)

Introduction: This takes place some time during Revolution chapters 7-8. That is all.

* * *

Ironhide looked out over the crowd in front of him. Elita smiled encouragingly and Chromia crossed her arms and met his gaze with her characteristic fierce determination. Ratchet scowled. He looked like he was muttering something under his breath to Dion, who stood next to him with a bored expression on his faceplate.

It had taken almost half a joor to convince Ratchet to come to this. Ironhide hoped he stayed, though. The medic was like Optimus—he'd willingly put himself in danger if the situation called for it—and he probably wouldn't survive long in a war if he didn't learn how to fight.

Ironhide's friend and former co-worker Padlock walked over with a casual smile. "We're all here?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Ironhide said. "Looks like everyone's here."

"Great," Padlock said, then stepped forward and turned to address the whole crowd. "Hey, everyone! Everyone!"

The chatter in the room faded out after a few astroseconds and Padlock continued. "Let's get started. I'm Padlock, a good friend of Ironhide here. I know a _few_ of you, but introductions can wait. Let me begin by just explaining what this is all about. Most of you are in desk jobs and whatnot—you're probably not expecting to see a lot of action. _But_ that doesn't mean you won't ever benefit from knowing how to fight. In fact, because you'll be in important places—medbays, communication centers, and the like, it's possible you could be targeted by the enemy. And your ability to fire a gun or hold off an assassin for half a breem could save your life and the lives of the mecha you work with."

"Hmph," Ratchet said, crossing his arms and glaring up from the front row.

"You're a medic, right?" Padlock said.

Ironhide shot a nervous glance at his friend—if Padlock singled Ratchet out, the little orange medic would probably make some kind of a scene.

"Yes," Ratchet tilted his helm up, meeting Padlock's gaze with defiance.

"Say you're out on the battlefield running triage or something, and some enemy squadron shows up out of nowhere. You're going to want to be able to protect yourself and your patients, right?"

Ratchet didn't look impressed.

"In any case," Padlock said. "Um… here's how this will work. We're going to break up into smaller groups taught by my fellow guardsmechs...and former guardsmech" he amended as he gestured to Ironhide and the others. "Ironhide's going to talk about guns and projectiles. Horsepower here will be showing you the basics of energy weapons, Windsail will teach about various blade weapons, and I'll be teaching some elementary hand-to-hand. Let's… yes?"

Ratchet had raised his hand.

"How _long_ is this going to take?" the medic grumbled. "I don't have time for this slag."

"Well, no one's forcing you to stay." Ironhide could hear some frustration in Padlock's voice now. "But you're going to sorely regret it some orn if your patients offline because you can't defend yourself."

Bad move.

"I can defend myself perfectly fine!"

"I highly doubt that," Padlock snapped. "Now, everyone… just pick somewhere to go. Try to split up evenly. We'll rotate after maybe half a joor. Any questions?"

There was quiet mumbling, but no one seemed to want to ask anything out loud.

The group split up four ways. Chromia and her sisters followed Ironhide over to one corner of the room, along with a few other mecha.

"Ok," he said. "Let's start with something simple…" he trailed off, as he realized that half of the group was watching the adjacent corner. He followed their gaze.

"What are we all looking at?" Chromia asked.

"I wanna see this," Moonracer said. "I think if Padlock pushes that crazy medic any further, he's gonna blow, and that'll be interesting."

"Really?" Chromia rolled her optics, but watched as well as Ratchet and a few others gathered around Padlock.

"Ok," Padlock said to his group. "Best thing you can do if someone with more fighting skill is attacking you is to knock them over and make sure _you_ don't get knocked over. That'll give you some time to either run, or try and further incapacitate them. I need a volunteer. How about you, little medic."

"He's just digging himself deeper," Moonracer grinned. "Watch, Ratchet's gonna pull out that wrench and just throw it at him and he'll end up, like, unconscious on the floor."

"I don't know," Ironhide said. "Padlock's pretty good at dodging."

Elita sighed. "I don't think it's fair for him to try and humiliate Ratchet like this."

"True," Chromia said. "After all, Ratchet humiliates himself plenty as it is."

Elita shot a disapproving frown at her sister.

"I want you to try and knock me over," they heard Padlock say as he got into a steady stance.

They waited expectantly as Ratchet walked forward, arms still crossed, still scowling. He looked Padlock up and down, and then leaped at the larger mech.

Ironhide's optics widened as Ratchet knocked Padlock's pedes out from under him and slammed him to the ground.

The crash stunned the room into silence and everyone looked toward the corner were Ratchet stood over Padlock, arms crossed again.

Padlock got back to his pedes, and threw himself at Ratchet, but the medic stepped neatly out of the way, turned, and slammed Padlock into a nearby wall, pinning him there. He held the guardsmech against the wall for a few moments then released him and stalked away. On his way out he grabbed a knife from a stunned-looking Windsail's hands and threw it at the wall where it stuck deep into the very center of a target that had been set up there.

The door shut behind him.

"What the frag?" Moonracer broke the silence.

A swell of disbelieving whispers swept the room as mecha turned to talk to each other. Realizing that someone needed to call everyone to order, Ironhide stepped toward the center of the room. "Hey… Hey! Everyone, let's get back to work. Unless someone else wants to test out of the course?"

Scattered laughter faded into focused quiet and Ironhide went back to the group he was working with. He glanced over at Padlock, who was still leaning against the wall. The guardsmech met his gaze and his stunned expression shifted to a sort of incredulous questioning look.

Ironhide wasn't sure what to tell the mech, so he just shrugged and turned back to his group.

"What the frag?" Moonracer said again, giggling this time.

"Was that some sort of fluke?" Chromia asked.

Ironhide shook his helm. "Couldn't have been. He… must have training somehow…"

"That was fragging amazing," Moonracer said. "Did you _see_ that? That was even better than I thought it would be."

Chromia turned to look at Elita. "So much for humiliating Ratchet," she said.

"Pit, I hope someone was recording that," Moonracer grinned.

"Hey," Ironhide said. "Let's focus. We've got a lot of ground to cover."


	25. The Wrong Army (Rev 10)

Introduction: This happens sometime during chapter 10 of Revolution. It actually used to be _part_ of chapter 10. I didn't want to cut it because this scene isreferenced in chapter 11, but it didn't really fit anywhere. And I guess that's the point of spare parts, so... here you go.

* * *

The old mech stumbled as he was shoved forward, but kept his balance despite the stasis cuffs holding his arms behind him.

 _Slag it. This is worse than I thought. There's that big gladiator himself._

I didn't bother to look away from the computer screen as Megatron stopped pacing and glared at the guards.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"It's an Autobot spy, sir," one of the guards said.

"Autobot nothing!" the old mech huffed. "I've never even _met_ an Autobot."

"He signed up for the army, but then was trying to sneak out of Kaon," the guard said.

Megatron looked at me. _Who's telling the truth here? Does this mech have anything to do with the Autobots?_

 _I get myself into all of these stupid situations. I've got to get out of this. What to say… The truth might be enough of a story…_

Jazz, who had been doing something on a computer on the other side of the room looked over at the mech. _I don't recognize him…_

But I did, from somewhere. I had seen this mech before.

When had I seen this mech before?

"Soundwave?" Megatron asked. _Is he a spy?_

I shook my helm.

"Send him to the mines," Megatron growled. "He's just a deserter."

"Look here," the old mech said. "I'm not on a contract and I didn't sign nothing. You can't keep me here. I only came here looking for an old friend anyway." _It was a big mistake. But I thought surely he couldn't be on the Council's side. Now I think the Council's side is probably not so bad._

I recognized him.

Megatron narrowed his optics. _Who does this mech think he's playing with?_

"Kup." I said.

They all looked at me.

"How do you know my designation?" the mech asked. _Who the frag is that anyway? I know I've never seen_ him _before. I'd remember a mech with a visor like that._

"Do you know this mech?" Megatron asked.

"Not personally," I said.

He was an old friend of Master Yoketron's

"Sure don't think so," Kup said. "How do you…"

"Silence!" Megatron said. "Soundwave?" _What should we do with him? Is he important for any reason?_

I shook my helm.

"All right," Megatron said, turning to the guards again. "I told you to take him to the mines."

"Hey!" Kup said, stepping forward as the guards came up behind him. "You know a mech designated Yoketron? Didn't he train you, gladiator?"

"No," Megatron said. "I've never heard of him."

 _Looking for Yoketron?_ Jazz thought. _Why the pit would he look here? Maybe if he thinks he trained Megs… Slag, I guess he_ did _in a way but... surely a friend of Master Yoketron's would know he'd never get involved in a conflict like this_.

 _Now that's a lie,_ Kup thought _I know Yokes's style when I see it. It's a little different yes, but the foundation is right._ "Then you must be trained by someone who was trained by…"

"I don't have time for this," Megatron growled. "Get rid of him."

 _I don't slagging think so. Gotta get out of here…_

The guards closed in on the old mech, but he tripped one and kicked the other over before sprinting for the doorway.

Ravage leaped out from under my desk and streaked after him.

Kup almost make it to the door before my cat pounced on him, sinking claws deep into his back.

The old mech cried out as he was knocked over. He threw Ravage off, but that gave the guards time to close in on him. Even injured and stasis-cuffed he nearly fought them off.

Megatron watched the scuffle, suddenly very interested.

Ravage padded back over to jump on my desk. I reached up to rub behind his audios.

 _I got him,_ he thought, licking the energon off of his claws. _That was almost as fun as Ratchet. He's almost as cranky too._

"Good job," I muttered.

The guards eventually subdued the old mech and then dragged him to his pedes.

"You're a fighter," Megatron said.

"An old soldier," Kup replied proudly, looking Megatron in the optics.

"There would be a place for someone with your experience among the Decepticons."

Kup snorted. "Thanks for the offer. But I don't usually fight for tyrants."

"Call me that again and I'll have you offlined."

Kup looked down. _They'll imprison me and I'll find a way to escape. Especially if they send me into the mines._

"I've changed my mind," Megatron said. _I can't trust anyone with military experience in the mines. We'll just have to keep him locked up._ "Put him in a high security cell until I've decided what to do with him."

They dragged Kup away. Megatron sighed. "Well?"

"He is truthful," I said. "And you're right. Don't send him to the mines."

Megatron shook his helm.

 _Yoketron,_ Jazz thought. _If that mech really is his friend, I ought to… nah. Leave it. Leave it, Jazz, leave it._

Jazz.

If I was any good at guessing, he might not be loyal that much longer. Even now, he seemed hesitant to agree with Megatron sometimes. But he was always careful when I was present, so it was hard to tell exactly _how_ close he was to slipping. When he did, I would have a choice to make.

It wouldn't be a very difficult one.


	26. Powerful Friends (Rev 11-12)

Kup could feel the rough wall pressing against his wounds. He had about four escape plans, but at the moment, they all seemed like more effort than they were worth. He ran through the situation again in his helm. This so called "high security" cell wasn't very high security. There was a camera up in the corner, but the bars weren't energized and they'd taken his stasis cuffs off when they'd locked him up.

Everything was gone from his subspace, but he still had a knife in a compartment in his leg, not to mention some integrated weapons. If he could figure out how to get his weapons systems online without a medic or an enforcer…

He heard a muffled clang and a shout from somewhere nearby.

Well, that sounded promising. If there was some sort of fight, maybe he could slip out? He just had to figure out how to get the cell door open.

And that meant he had to go look at it.

Which meant he had to get up.

Primus, he was too old for this imprisonment thing.

He pushed against the wall a little, wincing as his back plating shifted. That fragging symbiot had sharp claws.

The fighting sounds had stopped. He'd missed his chance.

Oh well.

Kup settled back against the wall and shuttered his optics.

Then he heard a slow creak like a door being opened by someone who didn't want to sound suspicious. Halfway through, the creak sped up as if whoever it was had lost patience and given up on sneaking.

Kup un-shuttered his optics again and looked up as familiar figure stalked into view, scowling at him and brandishing an axe longer than she was tall.

He grinned. "Sweet Solus Prime!" he said. "Never thought I'd see _you_ again, femme."

Her scowl softened a little and she rolled her optics.

"What happened to the hammer?"

"You want me to beat the bars in with a hammer?" Solus deadpanned. "That would make a lot of noise and take far too long." She pressed something on the handle of the axe and the edge of the blade glowed yellow.

Kup watched as she stepped back, then swung vertically with the axe and cut the lock off of the cell door. It creaked open and she entered. "Are you hurt? Can you stand?"

Kup reached out and let her pull him to his pedes. She wasn't being quite as friendly as he remembered. Was something wrong?

"You know," he said. "I could have gotten myself out."

"Uhuh," Solus's said. "Just shut up and let's get out of here. I have a mission with Prima to get back to."

Kup followed her out of the cell, grimacing. "What kind of mission?"

"The kind mortals don't need to know about."

Kup raised an optic ridge and they went through another door into a larger room strewn with unconscious guards. "If you say so."

"Shh," Solus said and Kup fell silent. He could hear distant running.

"You think maybe someone triggered an alarm?" he asked. "There's an army out there."

"I know and I don't want to kill them all," Solus said. "Come here." She swung her axe at the ground. It didn't even make noise as it sheared cleanly through the metal. And it only seemed to cut hairline cracks, despite the thickness of the blade.

Solus and her fancy magic weapons.

She cut a rough rectangle in the floor and then reached down and lifted it up. "Thought so," she said.

There was darkness beneath—a tunnel under the building.

Kup snorted.

"What?"

"You don't put a prison right over a bunch of tunnels. And can you believe they called the little cage I was in a high security cell?"

"Let's go," Solus said. "You might want—"

"Okay, okay." Kup lowered himself down and dropped.

"Wait!" Solus said, but it was too late.

Kup fell for long enough that he had ample opportunity to regret his rash decision. Then, after what seemed like eternity, he hit the bottom and rolled, twisting an ankle and denting an arm.

The dim light from the room above winked out as Solus swung into the hole, pulling the chunk of the floor back into place and hanging from it for a moment before dropping as well.

She landed on her pedes with a heavy clang and turned on her lights. "Kup?"

He got to his knees with a moan, and she pulled him to his pedes again.

"Are you all right?"

"That was a farther drop than I expected," Kup said. "But yeah, I'll live."

She huffed. "That was stupid. You know, I am shocked every time I hear you're not offline yet. Hold on a moment." She put a finger to the side of her helm to indicate she was going to talk over a comm. "We're going to have to change the rendezvous point because we ended up in some tunnel. Closest exit to the surface seems to be… the mines."

Kup wondered who she was talking to.

"Let's see… how about we meet in the coliseum? That is close, right? And it should be empty… all right."

Kup looked up into the blackness above. He couldn't see the ceiling.

"We should move," Solus said. "Can you drive?"

"Yeah, better than I can walk at this point." He transformed. "Lead the way o beacon of—"

"Kup."

"What?"

She sighed.

"Oh, come on, you know I'm your favorite mortal." Kup followed her down the tunnel. The rough, unpaved surface shook him, which aggravated his wounds. He hoped they didn't have to go too far.

"That's not saying much. Considering I haven't been on Cybertron for several thousand vorns, you're one of the few mortals I know."

They drove in silence for a few astroseconds. She was definitely less friendly than before. Wandering around the galaxy for a thousand vorns would do that to you, Kup supposed. Or maybe he was remembering her wrong.

"So…" he said. "How did you find out I needed help?"

"Someone sent a message to Yoketron about it," Solus said. "And he asked Maccadam whether he knew anyone in Kaon who might be willing to help. Maccadam, of course, knew I was on the planet and volunteered me to come rescue you."

"Well, sorry to ruin your orn," Kup said. "How is old Mac anyway?"

"You've probably seen him more often than I have," Solus said.

"He still runs that place in Iacon, doesn't he?" Kup said. "Mech ought to branch out. I don't know how he can work at the same job for so long."

"Well, most mecha eventually figure out what they want to do for the rest of their life."

"Guess I'm the exception to that."

"No, you've decided to be an eternal troublemaker," Solus replied, and he could hear just a little amusement in her voice. Good.

"How are the rest of your siblings?" Kup didn't want to let the conversation die. Besides, it helped distract him from his injuries.

"Same as always," she said. "Well… most of them. I… would ask how your friends are doing, but…"

"They're all dead," Kup finished for her. "Yeah. 'cept for Yoketron, and it sounds like you've talked to him more recently than I have. Unless you count your siblings, who are also my friends, sort of. Some of them at least. You know, you mecha should have stuck around instead of leaving us. What's off-planet that's more interesting or important than here?"

"We had to make sure the Quintessons were gone for good," Solus said. "And then after that… there really wasn't a reason to come back. It gets hard after a while, watching everyone else get old and offline."

"Yeah," Kup agreed.

"But you may be right. We… not all of us are online right now." Something in her voice made that seem more grim than usual.

"What brings you back to Cybertron anyway?" Kup asked, not sure if it was the right question.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Femme, you're a fragging demigoddess, who's telling you you can't say stuff to me?"

"My better judgment," she said, and he was pleased to hear a smirk in her voice. "I don't want the entire planet to know what we're doing, and you're the world's worst gossip."

"Hmph," Kup said.

He kept the conversation alive the rest of the way through the tunnels. Solus was stiff for a few more breems, but she started to relax as time went on. He even got her to laugh once. She'd been spending too much time alone, or with Prima who was as dull as a factory worker's paint job.

They reached the coliseum. The whole place was in shambles—doors knocked over, graffiti on the walls and ceilings, dried energon staining the floor.

They passed a couple of offline frames as well on the way to the arena.

And there, standing in the center of the broken stage was Kup's oldest living friend.

The slender mech faced away from them, arms crossed, staring up into the empty stands.

Kup transformed to root mode and limped over to stand by Yoketron.

"See?" he said. "Knew I'd find you in Kaon."

Yoketron turned to face him. He could see the stress lines on his brother's faceplate and the exhaustion in his optics.

"Kup," he said. "Are you all right? You're limping—what did you do to your ankle?"

"Funny story. I jumped down a hole and didn't look to see how deep it was first. Primus, mech, it's good to see you. I'm guessing you're fighting for the other side then?"

"In a manner," Yoketron said. "You should have commed me to ask instead of just showing up to join the Decepticons."

Kup's optics widened. "Oh… yeah, that would have been smart."

Yoketron smiled and shook his helm sadly, looking out over the stands again.

"But I could have sworn you taught that gladiator."

"I did," Yoketron said. "Before I knew what he would become."

Kup crossed his arms, turning to scan the empty seats above and around them. "What exactly did you think a _gladiator_ was _going_ to become?"

Yoketron sighed. "It's a long… oh, Primus, your back."

Kup turned toward his friend again. "Why yes I am."

"No." Yoketron grabbed him by the shoulder and stepped around him. "What happened? This looks painful."

"Eh, it's probably not as bad as it—ow! Don't poke at it."

"Some of these gashes look deep…"

"It was some big cat symbiot thing."

Yoketron let go of him. "Ravage."

"Excuse me?" Kup said.

"Ravage. The cat's designation is Ravage."

"You… what?"

"You know," Solus said. "Between the two of you, you probably know the entire population of Cybertron."

"I trained that symbiot's owner as well," Yoketron explained.

"The faceless mech?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell him about me? Cuz he recognized me and knew my designation."

"He's a telepath."

"He… Yokes, you got a lot of questions to answer. A telepath?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "We can catch up once we're in Iacon. Solus, is something wrong?"

Kup turned to see her frowning into the empty stands, optics narrowed, alert. She glanced over her shoulder once, pulling her giant axe from subspace, then looked at Kup and Yoketron. "Yes and no," she said. "Yoketron, can you get out of the city on your own?"

"I should be able to, yes," Yoketron said. "Why?"

"I sense something," she said. "Actually… just to be sure, I'll escort you out of here and bring Prima back with me. He's going to want to check on this place as soon as possible. Come on."

"What?" Kup said, wincing. "What the frag is going on?"

"We should take Kup to a medic before we drive to Simfur," Yoketron said.

That sounded like a good idea. The drive to Simfur could take an entire orn, and Kup didn't know if he could make it that far. At the very least, he needed some energon.

"No," Solus said. "We're going to cheat. I'll have Maccadam bridge us directly to Iacon. Come on, let's get somewhere more secure."


	27. Hunting Darkness (Rev 11-13)

Introduction. This happens some time around chapters 11-13 of Revolution. Just more stuff about the Original 13. They seem to be dominating the spare parts chapters of late.

* * *

"Are you certain you sensed dark energon here?" Prima's solemn voice echoed in the hallway.

"It was out in the arena. Come feel it for yourself. I don't like that it's here. We're right above…" Solus didn't want to say it out loud in case Megatronus was listening somehow. Vector Sigma was here at these coordinates—right beneath the gladiatorial arena. It was a miracle that the mecha who ran this place hadn't noticed it. The chamber wouldn't open unless someone with the key was present, but if someone had realized there was space unaccounted for, they could have broken into it.

And if Megatronus was here and had found it… that could mean serious trouble.

She stepped out into the center of the arena, all senses on their highest settings, listening, smelling, feeling for the elusive presence of Unicron's blood.

If this trail ran cold, they'd scour Kaon for him. They had absolutely no other leads so they might as well...

There.

There it was, faint but distinct. Not quite a feeling, not quite a smell. She stepped toward it, focusing on the discordant hum in the back of her spark.

"Solus?"

"This way," she said, and he followed her to the edge of the arena.

"I feel it as well," Prima declared, looking up at the wall that had stood between fighters and spectators.

Was it coming from the stands? Solus wouldn't be surprised if Megatronus had frequented the gladiator matches.

"Come," Prima said, and led the way toward the door. Solus followed, careful and a little bit nervous. If Megatronus had been physically present, she would have felt the dark energon more strongly, but it was still unsettling to know he might have been here.

Prima led the way through wrecked halls and broken doors to the stands, where they followed the feeling of dark energon to the best seats in the arena—private boxes with larger chairs and a clear view of everything. These were seats for the mecha who owned this place.

Prima knelt on the floor and rested his hand by one dried dark splotch on the ground. "This is old."

Solus forced herself to relax and commed Maccadam.

He answered promptly. " _Hey, Sol. Find something?"_

"We've found traces of dark energon in the stands, just like I felt. And they're not just anywhere, they're in a private box. Someone with a lot of credit or who was involved in the gladiator fighting business sat here. It's old, though. Could have been here for half a vorn."

" _Hmm,"_ Maccadam said. _"A cold trail, you think? And I mean, our Megatronus isn't the only one who's ever used dark energon. I can look into the owners of the gladiator arena, see what I can find, but..."_

"Are you speaking with Alchemist?" Prima asked.

Solus nodded.

"Ask him to look into the organization that ran this place," Prima said. "Meanwhile, we'll search the rest of the building."

"It might not be Megatronus," Solus said. "It doesn't seem like him, running a place like this. Wouldn't he be worried that someone would notice him, even though he probably doesn't look like he did last time?"

"He has been unpredictable in the past." Prima said. "We can't afford to ignore this."

" _The mech in charge couldn't have been him,_ " Maccadam said over the comm. _"That mech's designation was Clench, and he was_ definitely _not Megatronus. He apparently had blue optics, and is confirmed offline. Of course, I really can't see Megatronus being some sort of henchman either. He didn't even stick to serving Unicron for very long."_

"Right," Solus said. "Well, we'll look around and see what we can find."

" _So will I. Good luck. Stick together."_

"We will." Solus cut the comm. and turned to look at Prima.

"Well?" he said.

"Maccadam says we should keep looking, and he'll see what he can find out."

Prima nodded once. "Let us remain together. We cannot risk Megatronus surprising us. Remember, it may have been he who killed Onyx."

"If it was, we'll make him pay dearly." Solus pulled her axe out and followed her brother the way they had come.

With the mortals starting another war, it was going to get easier and easier for Megatronus to come back to Cybertron undetected. And if he was already here, it would be easier for him to hide.

They had to locate him quickly.

* * *

There was a certain anxiety that came with being hunted.

But he was used to that.

Used to being on his own, looking over his shoulder all the time, staying in the shadows. He was used to keeping his optics open, watching the places he'd been and the places he was going to be.

So while he wasn't sure how long ago Prima and Solus had picked up his trail, he was still far ahead of them.

That was good. It gave him space to turn the tables. Life was much more fun when _he_ was doing the hunting. If he was honest with himself, he was glad that they'd found him, because it gave him an excuse to stop lying low.

Rumor had it Primus wasn't bringing them back anymore.

That meant if he offlined them they would stay offline.

He couldn't waste such a wonderful opportunity.

He watched them out of the skyscraper window—they were just two specks in a crowd of hundreds, but they stood out like fresh energon on a white painted wall. Stupid idiots had never learned to fit in. They just barged through everything recklessly, as if they were infallible, unstoppable.

But they weren't so good at everything as they thought they were.

If he fought them, he'd want to do it somewhere he was familiar with. And he'd want to fight them individually. On a good orn, he could beat either or even both of them separately, but he didn't want to risk them fighting him together.

How to separate them, though?

Prima was even-tempered and stubborn. If he'd decided to stick with Solus, then there was nothing to do about it.

But Solus… Solus could be lured away.

The beginnings of a plan formed in Megatronus's helm, and he smiled at the small, oblivious specks below that were his brother and sister.

Then he turned and faced the room. It was a bit of a mess. Overturned chair, dented wall, energon all over the floor. The mech and femme who'd lived here hadn't been too keen on a stranger coming in and borrowing their window, but they weren't complaining about it anymore.

He walked past their offline frames, and let himself out, then shut and locked the door behind himself.

As he made his way out of the building, he wondered whether anyone was watching him—whether there were cameras in the walls.

He _should_ be a little more careful. Killing mecha wasn't dangerous right now, because the city's new leader had effectively wiped out enforcement, but he didn't want to get sloppy.

That mechling gladiator was an idiot. He'd just gotten lucky. He hadn't even started his rebellion on purpose, he'd just opened his stupid mouth a little too often during fights. And now he was ruling Kaon like the amateur he was…

It was hilarious.

Megatronus was so proud of him. A tiny bit offended that he'd shortened his designation, but still proud of the little protégé.

Some orn, that mechling might accidentally do what Megatronus had been attempting for centivorns, and bring down the entirety of Cybertronian civilization.

Megatronus left the building. He took side streets and short-cuts until he was certain he was ahead of Prima and Solus. Then he pulled out a cube of dark energon. He dipped his finger in it and smeared it so lightly on a wall that when it dried you wouldn't be able to see it.

But Primus's pets were good at sniffing the stuff out.

He crept around the slums, leaving traces of dark energon here and there. He wanted them to know they were on the right track, of course.

Then he retreated to one of his favorite maze-like neighborhoods. He frequented the place often enough that the mecha here knew him. They didn't know exactly _who_ he was, but they knew not to bother him. Some of them even knew the designation he'd been going by recently. He was proud of that designation—it would be annoying if his siblings found it out and he had to come up with a new one. In old Cybertronian, it had a similar meaning to the title history had given him. But instead of suggesting _he_ had fallen, it meant he _was_ a fall—a catalyst of falling—an overthrower.

He found a dead end and poured dark energon all over the ground so the sweet, powerful smell of it would stretch out to fill this part of the neighborhood. Then he went around and left pools of dark energon in several other places as well.

Normally, he couldn't get too close to Solus and Prima without them noticing him.

But, of course, if there were even stronger sources of dark energon nearby, his presence would be masked.

He ran through his plan again in his helm.

Find Prima and Solus again. Follow them from a distance until they found this neighborhood. Sneak up on them, make Solus angry, separate her from Prima…

If it didn't work, then he'd leave the city and let them wander around looking fruitlessly for a while. But if it did work, then he'd kill one or the other of them.

They should really expect this by now. They should really be more careful.

But he was glad they weren't.

He was always pleased when mecha underestimated him, when he had to earn their respect the hard way. That was how you knew it was you, not your size or your toys, that they were afraid of.

He paused in an empty alleyway and pulled a long, sharp blade out of subspace. He preferred to kill with his bare hands. Any fool could stab someone, but you knew you'd mastered the art of death when you were your own weapon.

He'd make an exception for his siblings, though. He'd do anything to get rid of them.

* * *

"And that was all?" Maccadam said. "No mech with purple optics?"

The gruff-looking mech shrugged, then took a long draught from the large cube of high grade Maccadam had given him.

He was a two or three words per sentence type of mech, which was more than a little frustrating.

Solus and Prima had found more dark energon in a little out of the way room in the building where the gladiators had lived. But there was no way Megatronus had been a gladiator. He'd never have let anyone catch him fighting on camera, in case Maccadam saw him and recognized him. Furthermore, if he'd been a gladiator, he'd be unstoppable, and Maccadam would have heard about him. It generally took two or three of the original thirteen working together to beat him in a fight. The only one who could take him down single-handed was Vector, and that was only because Vector could teleport.

"Yeah," the big mech said. "There was one."

"What?" Maccadam said. The mech had taken so long to answer he'd forgotten his question.

"There was a mech with purple optics."

"There _was?_ But you said there wasn't anyone high up in Clench's organization with…"

"No," the big mech said. "Don't know who he was—he was just there sometimes."

"What did he look like?"

The mech drank the rest of the energon. "Small… don't know. Didn't pay much attention."

Maccadam frowned. "And you don't know what he was doing there? You don't know if he was a guard, or a gladiator or…"

"Never saw him fight," the mech said, staring sadly into his empty cube. "Don't know, Mac. I just went to a lot of matches is all, cuz I had a friend who'd get me tickets."

"Do you know where that friend is? He might be able to tell me—"

"He's dead, mech,"

Oh. Right.

"Okay," Maccadam said. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the mech with purple optics? Who did he sit by? Where did you see him? Did you see him anywhere besides the stands?"

"He kinda had his own box," the mech said. "Maybe he was a sponsor? That's all I know, really. He's probably dead too, considering what happened in Kaon."

Maccadam nodded. "Thank you. Let me get you a refill."

"Thanks, Mac. Hey, was that helpful?"

"Yeah," Maccadam said. "Helpful enough."

"Who is this mech you're looking for?"

"The Fallen."

The big mech snorted. "I mean really. Who is he?"

Maccadam smiled sadly. "He's a friend. Or he was, a very long time ago. But now there are things he needs to answer for."

The gruff mech nodded and Maccadam went to get him some more high grade. He got a message from Amalgamous and opened to read it as he slipped behind the counter.

It was nice to be in touch with his siblings again. That was _one_ good thing about the impending end of the world—they were all talking to each other now.

Of course, Amalgamous was several hundred light vorns away at the moment, so a comm. still wasn't possible, even with their advanced communication systems.

Maccadam read the message.

[Hey, Alchemist. Quintus and I are snooping around the site where we found Onyx's frame. I don't know why we're bothering, but Quintus seems to think it'll lead somewhere. My personal theory is that Vector lost it and killed Onyx, but no one will listen to that. In any case, Quintus found some rocks that he _says_ might actually have something organic in them. I have no idea why that's relevant, but he seems to think it is. He says he can't analyze the organic stuff without a proper lab, though, so we're going to try to send samples back to you. We'll give them to Micronus if he starts answering his comm. but otherwise we're going to need the space bridge, so if Solus and Prima aren't busy, you should send them out to activate it. And if they _are_ busy, you should come yourself. Then maybe you can trade places with me. I'll watch your little bar, and you can wander around in space with Quintus and say sciencey things to impress each other. Either way, thought I'd let you know. It's sparking boring out here, so I hope you're enjoying the fireworks at the end of the world.]

Maccadam sighed and brought his informant another cube of high grade, then went back to stand behind the bar.

Solus commed him.

He smiled. He was very popular this orn.

He answered Solus. "Hey, any luck?"

" _Alchemist! Megatronus is here, frag it!"_

"Wait, what?" Maccadam said.

" _I was chasing him down but I lost him. I need a bridge, though because… oh, Primus, no…"_

"Send me your coordinates," Maccadam said, knocking a couple of cubes over in his haste to get to the door behind the counter.

" _Prima and I got separated…"_

"Pit," Maccadam said. " _How_?"

" _Megatronus came out of nowhere, stabbed Prima, and ran off. I chased him, but he disappeared. Frag it, I left Prima behind and he's hurt. If Megatronus circled back…"_

"Give me Prima's coordinates then," Maccadam said rushing down the stairs to the third basement where the groundbridge was. "I'll open a bridge."

" _I don't want you to fight Megatronus alone. I'm almost there."_

"Just give me the coordinates!"

She sent him the coordinates and Maccadam made it to the bridge and started powering everything up and putting them in.

" _No!"_ The rage and horror in Solus's voice sent a chill down his back plating. He opened the groundbridge and stepped through, cutting the comm. with Solus as he did so.

On the other side of the bridge, he found himself in a dim, rusted-out street filled with the overpowering stench of dark energon. His vents seized up and his spark shuddered, but he tried to ignore the sickening feeling, looking around instead. A small figure he assumed was Megatronus was sprinting away down the narrow street, with his sister giving chase.

"Solus!" Maccadam shouted, rushing after her, then stopping when his pedes skidded on energon and he nearly tripped over Prima. He looked down and froze.

He heard Solus's pedes hitting the ground as she jogged back in his direction, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from his brother.

Prima lay in his own leaking fluids, chest plate shattered. Spark energy emanated wildly from the blade of a knife still sticking out of his exposed spark chamber.

"No…" Solus breathed. "Primus, no…"

"Let's get him through the bridge," Maccadam said, slipping numb hands under his dying brother's frame. "I've got some life support equipment at home."

Solus turned to look down the street as Maccadam picked Prima up. That wound would have killed an ordinary mech instantly.

Prima didn't have long.

"Come on, Solus, we don't have time."

She growled, but followed Maccadam through the bridge and closed it behind them.

Prima jerked, nearly pulling out of Maccadam's arms.

"Hey, hey!" Maccadam said. "Hold still. Sol, help me."

Solus grabbed Prima as well.

"No!" Prima choked, thrashing again. "Koh… in…"

"It's okay, mech. Don't try to talk, let's just get you on a medberth."

Prima gasped, coughed once more, and then went limp. Solus and Maccadam rushed across the hall to Maccadam's private medbay, where they set Prima gently on the berth.

Maccadam dragged over some life support equipment and went to pull the knife out of Prima's spark chamber, but then stopped. The blade of the knife was no longer lit from beneath.

Prima's spark was gone.

He was gone.

Maccadam felt cold.

"Mac?" Solus breathed.

Maccadam shuttered his optics, bowing his helm

"He's not…"

He was gone.

"No… this is my fault I should have stayed with him! No, no, _no!_ "

"Solus…" Maccadam looked up at her.

She took a step away, trembling, venting hard.

Maccadam followed her and wrapped his arms around her. "It's not your fault."

She tried to pull away at first, but then gave in and simply screamed anger and horror and guilt into his shoulder.

Maccadam held his sister even more tightly as the reality of what had just happened sank in. He couldn't believe this. He didn't _want_ to believe it—didn't want to think about it. Maccadam hadn't always agreed with Prima about everything, but he was their uncontested leader. He'd always seemed to know what to do.

And now he was gone.

* * *

Notes:

1\. No it's not an April Fools joke. Prima is actually dead. :( And the Fallen is at large, causing problems and trying to kill the rest of them. Yay.

2\. Also, if anyone was wondering, whenever I say "old Cybertronian" that translates to Latin for Earth. So, like, if someone ever says anything in Latin (no one probably will, because I don't personally know Latin and I don't trust google translate to give me more than single word dictionary definitions) that means they're speaking in old Cybertronian. Or if someone has a name that means something in Latin. (Optimus, for example, or like, half of the original 13) that means they have an old Cybertronian name. I don't think that's canon, it's just something I came up with to explain all the random Latin.

3\. Thanks for reading!


	28. Integrity (Rev 21)

Introduction: This happens right after the meeting in chapter 21 of Revolution

* * *

Mainspring watched Jazz thoughtfully as the black and white mech sat down across the desk from him. He'd claimed he wanted to meet to assure Jazz that they knew he was trustworthy. But in reality, he was hoping Jazz would assure him.

It hadn't been too hard to trust this mech when he'd been in Kaon, but now that he was here, especially after discovering the lengths he'd gone to stay undercover…

Mainspring wasn't so sure.

Jazz glanced around the room, crossing his arms, then seemed to focus his attention on Mainspring.

It was hard to read his expression of course, because of his visor, but Mainspring thought he looked a little nervous.

"So," Mainspring said. "You wanted to talk about your credentials."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "And why exactly ya think I'm trustworthy, cuz if I was you, I wouldn't trust me."

Mainspring nodded, reaching under his desk for a box. "Before that, I should give you back the contents of your subspace."

"Oh, yeah," Jazz said. "I wondered if I'd get any of that back, after Red Alert took it all."

Mainspring set the box on the desk. "I actually have a few questions about this, if you don't mind…" he pulled out several small containers and vials. "You have quite the pharmacy in here."

"Doesn't hurt ta be prepared." Jazz shrugged.

"Prepared for what, exactly?" Mainspring said.

"I don't know," Jazz said. "Anything."

Mainspring frowned.

"Look," Jazz said. "Some of that stuff's pretty valuable. I can trade it on the black market for favors, credit, or information. Some of it's useful. There's a few toxic or acidic chemicals that can be surprisingly helpful depending on the situation. And yeah, there's a couple of really nice painkillers too."

"I see," Mainspring said.

Jazz leaned back in his chair. "As ya can see, there ain't very much of anything. If I was addicted ta any of the drugs in there, don't ya think there'd be more than one or two doses?"

Mainspring was not entirely convinced.

"How about this?" he asked, pushing one of the vials forward. "We couldn't even figure out what this is."

"Oh, that," Jazz cocked his helm to the side. "That's a virus I coded, mech."

"A what?"

"It's harmless," Jazz said. "Doesn't do anything to ya until ya go inta recharge, and then it turns off all your external sensors so ya don't wake up, even if it's noisy or someone moves ya."

Mainspring stared. "What… what exactly would you use that for?"

Jazz sighed. "Well, mostly robbing Polyhexian noblemecha. Once the household is in recharge, and there's only a couple of guards awake, ya can block the comms so they can't contact enforcement, go in there, take out the guards—who usually freak out and don't know what ta do when they can't wake their boss or any of the other staff—and then ya can take whatever ya want."

"That's…"

"Terrible," Jazz said brightly. "Yeah. It's also pretty useful for kidnapping mecha. I mean, you gotta get the virus inta their energon somehow and then wait for them ta recharge, but…"

"Jazz?"

"Sorry," Jazz said. "I know it's bad. I don't use it for anything these orns, but I like ta hang onta it, cuz I'm kinda proud of it. Took me a long time ta code it. Mecha's processors are fragging complicated."

Mainspring wasn't sure whether to be horrified or impressed. But at least it did seem like a fairly harmless virus.

"So…" Jazz said. "Do I get my stuff back?"

"Yes," Mainspring said, looking in the box. "The rest of this appears to be various weapons, and some bits and pieces of datapads and other computing devices. Also several trackers and cameras and that sort of thing."

"I like ta tinker with things," Jazz said. "If I wasn't a criminal, I mighta become a computer engineer or something."

"I'm not sure if some of these weapons are legal."

"Some of them ain't," Jazz said.

Well at least he was honest about it.

Mainspring sighed and pushed the box toward Jazz, who scooted his chair closer to the desk and started taking things out and subspacing them.

"So," the black and white mech said. "Change your mind about working with me? I don't think most of these mecha really know or understand—even Orion, though I've confessed a lot of stuff ta him. But ya're different—ya were part of enforcement, weren't ya?"

"The interesting thing," Mainspring said. "Is that I find I do _want_ to trust you. And there are some things I've learned about you that make me think you should at least be given a chance. Here," He pulled a datapad from subspace and handed it to Jazz, who set it on the desk while he finished looking through his things and subspacing them.

"That's your file," Mainspring said. "You'll find everything in it, from your early life to your time in Quantum to your incarceration, all the way through your decision to become a double agent for us."

Jazz finished subspacing his things and grabbed the datapad. Mainspring watched the reflection in his visor when he turned it on and the screen lit up.

"May I highlight a few things in it?"

"Okay," Jazz looked up. If he was uncomfortable, it didn't show in his posture or his voice.

"You were expelled from a private secondary school for your involvement in seriously injuring another student."

Jazz dipped his helm forward in acknowledgment.

"However, from some reports, it seems you actually tried to prevent your friend from hurting the other student."

Jazz smiled, shaking his helm. "Mech, ya're reading things inta that that aren't there."

"Would you care to tell me the story then?"

"I assume ya know about Soundwave."

"That he's a telepath? Or that he was the student your friend injured?"

"Both. I had kidnapped his symbiot and we were using that to try and blackmail him into giving us proof that he could read minds. If we'd been successful, we might have exposed him as a telepath. He could have been worse than injured if we'd succeeded. He could have been worse than killed. And when Motormaster attacked him, I stepped in because I was a mechling and I didn't want ta see someone die in front of me, not because I cared about Soundwave."

Jazz's tone was mostly casual, and Mainspring hoped that he wasn't imagining the hint of remorse in it.

"I mean…" Jazz said at length. "I was kinda tired of bullying Soundwave and his friends, anyway, but I didn't stop until it was almost too late."

"All right," Mainspring said. "As far as evidence of your moral quality goes, I guess that's not quite as convincing as I thought it was. But I appreciate that you're being honest about it. In fact, I appreciate your honesty about the contents of your subspace as well."

Jazz nodded. "Ain't no reason ta lie. If we do end up working together, ya oughtta know what ya're dealing with."

"Another thing I'd like to talk about is Quantum," Mainspring said.

Jazz's shoulders slumped a little. "Yeah?"

Interesting. He seemed uncomfortable now. "You made it very high up in the organization, but then you were put on their kill list. Something about treason? What was that about?"

Jazz frowned. "How did ya find that out?"

"I was an archivist for enforcement," Mainspring said. "About a vorn ago, we got some slightly outdated records from Quantum that someone had found. I was the one who read through them looking for useful information, and I happened to remember your designation."

Jazz nodded.

"So… what did you do that was treasonous?"

"I was helping other mecha desert," Jazz said. "Ya'd be surprised how many mecha join Quantum and then change their minds about it later. But ya can't leave, because then enforcement _and_ Quantum will be out ta kill ya. I helped mecha disappear and go inta hiding."

That sounded consistent with the information Mainspring had found. And that was a fairly strong argument in Jazz's favor. "I assume you were one of those who joined and changed their minds later."

"I wouldn't have joined in the first place," Jazz said. "Except all my friends did. And I don't want ya ta think I'm using that as an excuse. It just means I knew better and I _still_ joined the gang."

Mainspring nodded. "After you left Quantum, there was a period where I could find almost no information about you, until you turned yourself in. Why did you do that?"

"Got tired of running," Jazz said. "That's all. Anything else?"

"There are other ways to stop running. If you had wanted, I'm sure you could have gone into hiding somewhere."

Jazz shook his helm. "I didn't have the patience for hiding. I guess I realized that… I could either keep finding new ways ta escape my problems, or I could face them, and do what I knew was right. I figured… Well, ta be honest, I figured if I turned myself in they'd kill me and I wouldn't have ta deal with everything I'd done anymore."

So he may have been suicidal in the past. Even now, the risks he'd taken in becoming a double agent suggested he didn't care much about his own survival.

"Then they didn't kill me," Jazz said. "They just locked me up, and eventually gave me an opportunity ta get out and start running again. So I took that opportunity, and here I am."

Mainspring nodded. "It sounds as if you regret some of the things you've done in the past."

"I regret a lot of things," Jazz said. "But I can't change them. I can only try ta be better in the future."

"How do you intend to be better in the future?" Mainspring asked. "Are you worried you'll ever slip back into the kind of mech you were before?"

"I don't know," Jazz said. "I mean… before I turned myself in, I promised myself I'd never kill anyone again, and I've held myself to that so far."

Mainspring nodded. "That sounds like a good goal. It may be somewhat difficult to avoid killing in the future, though. I think we're going to have a war."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "But I ain't gonna be a soldier."

"No," Mainspring said. "You aren't."

"Ya still want me co-commanding with ya?" Jazz said.

Mainspring sat back in his chair. Jazz had been very friendly and open throughout the conversation, but while Mainspring felt much more comfortable about him after talking to him, he shouldn't equate the mech's affability with trustworthiness. "After talking with you… I think so." Jazz was probably just as dangerous as Mainspring's research suggested, but he also seemed very sincere, and loyal to his friends. Furthermore, Mainspring was mostly convinced that Jazz was sorry for the crimes he'd committed. "Your past is messy, but I do believe you can put it behind you. Besides, there's not as much of a choice as you think. We need your help, Jazz."

Jazz looked down.

"Are you willing to accept the position Optimus has offered you?"

"Yep," Jazz said. "I am."

"Excellent. I should introduce you to the mecha who'll be working under you."

Jazz stood. "Thanks. Not right now, though. There's something I gotta do."

Mainspring frowned. "What?"

Jazz hesitated.

"You don't have any responsibilities yet," Mainspring said. "In fact, I think you're supposed to be resting still."

"I know," Jazz said. "But I'm hacked inta the cameras in the tower and I just saw Ratchet get in the elevator. I have ta go follow him and see where his mechling telepath is, so I can keep tabs on that. We can't let the 'Cons get another telepath."

Mainspring frowned. "I don't think—"

"I'll be back." Jazz ducked out of the room, surprisingly nimble on his peg leg.

Mainspring watched him go, hoping fervently that trusting this mech wasn't a terrible mistake.


	29. Trying New Things (Rev 21-24)

Introduction: This happens some time between chapter 21 and 24, shortly after Jazz rejoins the Autobots.

* * *

Mainspring had suggested inviting everyone into the tower, but Jazz had opted to meet them out in the city instead. He didn't like being cooped up in Mirage's home. There was nothing new to explore there, and he wanted to be outside where there were more mecha and places to go anyway.

He drove through Iacon Central sector and transformed back to root mode outside the towering apartment building. His systems were still working on integrating the his newly rebuilt leg so he felt a little unbalanced, but it was a lot better than the temporary replacement had been.

He walked in the front doors and down the hall, counting cameras as he went. They were meeting in a small common area. Red Alert had assured him that it was as secure as possible, and that he'd try to make sure no one else barged in on them.

A lot of the mecha in his department lived here, in this building, though some of them were allowed in the tower on a regular basis.

Jazz had been apprehensive at first, but he was almost excited to see what they had to work with now. Mainspring had said the department didn't have a lot of mecha with the kind of experience that Jazz had, but he didn't see that as a bad thing. It was going to be an interesting challenge, but he wouldn't want to work with mecha who had backgrounds like his own anyway.

He was a little bit late, so the room was full when he entered. A quick helm count determined there were only fourteen of them. Of course, Mainspring had said about half of his mecha were out surveying cities. Jazz would have to meet those ones later.

"Good orn," he said, and took the one empty chair in the room. Conversations died out, and Jazz found himself at the center of attention. The expressions of the other mecha ranged from curious to mildly hostile. Mirage, who was standing by the side of the room, nodded in acknowledgment.

"So," Jazz said. "I guess let's start by introducing ourselves. I want ya ta tell me designations, what ya did before joining the Autobots, and what skills ya have. Don't feel like ya gotta tell me your whole life story, though. And I'm a firm believer in secrets, so if there's anything ya think I should know that ya don't wanna say in front of the group, ya can come talk ta me later. I'll start. I'm Jazz. Before I joined Autobot, I was a criminal…"

There were only a few stifled laughs.

It wasn't really that funny, after all.

"I'm good at a lot of things," Jazz said. "So far, I don't know if leadership is one of them, but I wouldn't count on it, so I need ya all ta be patient with me. I'll probably be deferring ta Mainspring a lot for the first little while, but I need ya ta listen ta me too. That all right?"

There was scattered nodding.

"Ok," Jazz said. "That's me. Moving on—"

"Wait," a mech said. "You're a criminal? How—"

"Long story," Jazz said. "Ask me later. If any of ya are wondering why I'm gonna be in charge anyway, I was on a mission for the Autobots up until this point, but my cover got blown so I had ta come back. They probably would have put me in charge from the beginning if I'd been here."

Silence fell.

"Okay," Jazz said, then nodded to the femme sitting to his left. "Your turn."

She crossed her arms. "I'm Glyph," she said. "I still do the same thing I did before I joined the Autobots. I'm a technology specialist and a data analyst. I'm definitely staying on Mainspring's side of the department, though. I don't do field work."

"Okay," Jazz said. "So ya're a hacker."

"I guess you could call it that," she frowned. "You know, there's something familiar about you. And not in a good way."

"Um… well, as I said, I was a criminal. Ya might have seen my faceplate on wanted posters or something."

"I don't think that's it," Glyph said. "Sorry, it's not important. I'll figure it out later."

Jazz nodded and looked to the next mech.

"I'm Makeshift," the mech said. "I was a circus performer before this. I used to do acrobatics, and I'm pretty good at sneaking, and I know how to fight. That's about all."

The next mech spoke, and the next, until they'd gone around the entire room. There were former enforcers, a handful of noblemecha, and a wide variety of other former careers including a primary school teacher and a couple of factory workers.

When they'd all introduced themselves, Jazz spoke again.

"So," he said. "I'm sure ya have questions for me. I've got questions too, for each of ya, and I'm looking forward ta working with ya. In fact, I'd like ta spend some time with all of ya individually over the next few decaorns, see what ya can do. Like I said, I'm kinda new ta this leadership thing, but it's always good ta try new things. I think it'll be fun."

"Fun?" a grumpy old mech who was a former enforcer glared at Jazz.

"Yeah," Jazz said forcefully. "Autoceptor, right? Look, I know this whole war's gonna be pit, but since we can't do nothin' about that we might as well _try_ ta get along with each other and enjoy ourselves a little."

The mech didn't seem to like that idea, but Jazz decided not to press the issue. He was pretty sure Mainspring had mentioned this mech losing friends in the Tarn take-over.

Jazz should probably try to be sensitive to that.

That was going to be difficult. He had a hard time taking anything too seriously. Maybe he wasn't the right mech for this job.

But then again, this was what Orion wanted him to do. So he'd try it out and hope for the best.


	30. Common Ground (Rev 23-24)

Introduction: This takes place between chapter 23 and 24 of Revolution, after Yoketron asks to meet with Elita.

* * *

Elita stepped out into the circular yard, stunned. She stared around at the crystals growing along the walls, and then her optics were drawn upward to the small, distant circle of sky above.

"Welcome," the old mech sitting in the open center of the courtyard stood and approached her. "Thank you for coming."

"This place is lovely," Elita said. "Is this where you train them?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "Come, sit down."

Elita nodded and followed him to sit down on the crystal tiles in the center. "You'd never expect to find a place like this attached to that apartment complex."

"Well, I think when Landquake and Petra moved in, it was just an empty courtyard," Yoketron said. "It was Petra who turned it into a garden."

"I'll have to tell her it's beautiful," Elita said. "So…" she focused her attention on Orion's Circuit-Su master. "You wanted to talk about something… something important, you said?"

"Yes," Yoketron replied. "There are some other items to discuss first, though."

"All right." She wasn't sure how she felt about this mech. Orion spoke highly of him, and even Prowl seemed to respect him. But as much as Orion tried to hide it, Elita knew he sometimes dreaded coming here for training.

"To begin with, I hear there are rumors that Orion knew he would become a Prime before the fact. I can confirm that those rumors are false," Yoketron said. "He did _not_ know what his calling would be."

"I know," Elita said. "He told me, and I know he wouldn't lie to me about it."

It was comforting to hear it from someone else, though.

"He is concerned that you think he betrayed you. And he is afraid of losing you—to the point where it has halted his progression in his training."

"I'm sorry," Elita said. "I know I hurt his feelings, but..."

"It's all right," Yoketron said. "You haven't done anything wrong. However, you are in a difficult position. May I present my estimation of the situation?"

"All right…"

"I know you love each other, and that you want to be together, but unfortunately, your continued relationship with Orion may not be helping him."

Elita's spark sank.

"Furthermore, it is a very severe risk. I actually believe Optimus Prime will have a better chance of saving Cybertron with you by his side. But if he loses you later down the road, it will be worse for him than if you leave now. You should know that if you choose to stay with him, you will suffer with him, through all of his suffering. I don't think you fully understand what that will mean. I know it may seem difficult now, but in the long run it _will_ be easier for you if you let him go."

Elita stared at him.

"It's all right to let go."

"No," Elita said. "I'm not leaving him."

"Even if it will help him? I want you to think carefully about this. If you choose to stay now and then leave when you discover the cost is too high, it may destroy him."

Elita looked down. "So… you're saying that if I _stay_ with Orion it will help him, but it's not worth it if I decide to leave him later."

"Correct."

"I'm not afraid of that," Elita said. "My decision isn't going to change."

"What if _he_ changes?" Yoketron asked. "What if the war changes him completely?"

Elita considered that for a moment, but the answer was obvious. "Orion _has_ to change. But his spark will be the same. I've already thought about all of this." She was sick of mecha arguing with her. "I will follow him anywhere, no matter the cost. And no one—not you or Chromia or Primus himself—can talk me out of it."

She met the old mech's piercing white optics for a few astroseconds, meeting his stern disapproval with defiance.

Then, inexplicably, Yoketron's faceplate relaxed into a smile. "Good," he said. "Very good."

Elita blinked.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way—"

"Wait…"

Yoketron raised an optic ridge, still smiling.

"Was that... a test?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "And you passed. Now, there is something I think we can do to help Orion move forward in his training again—something I need your help for. But before I explain that, there's a story I want to tell you…"

He trailed off, looking to the side with a pensive frown. She waited for him to continue.

"It's an old story," he said. "A difficult story in some ways… and it's not really relevant to my proposed solution to the problem—but it reminds me of the situation here and I want you to understand… you and I have something in common."

"I have time," Elita said. "And I suppose… I'm curious now, so you might as well tell me."

Now she _really_ wasn't sure how to feel about him. From her few interactions with Yoketron before, he'd seemed very formal—almost cold. And in the beginning of the conversation he'd been that way too. But then he'd seemed very pleased with himself when she'd stood up to him, and now he was like a different mech all over again.

"Once, many, many vorns ago…" he began. "In the time when individual city-states had their own governments, there was a femme designated Akiba Regis Nyonus, or in modern terms, she was Akiba, the princess of Nyon."

"Akiba?" Elita said. "Do you mean Akiba Prime?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "I suppose she _is_ more well-known as a Prime. In fact, if I've got my numbers right, she held the Matrix for longer than any other Prime in all of Cybertronian history."

"Wasn't it something like eight hundred vorns?" Elita said.

Yoketron nodded. "A little more than that, even."

Elita shook her helm. "How old was she when…"

"Oh, she was very young when she received the Matrix—almost as young as Orion. And, like him, the circumstances of her training were not ideal. There was a mech who'd set himself up as the next Prime, though he was unworthy, and once he heard that the true Prime had been appointed, he attempted to hunt her down and kill her. Aside from the danger, her journey toward becoming a Prime required great personal sacrifice…" Yoketron paused for a moment, then continued. "Cybertron was in shambles after the Quintesson wars. We needed a worthy Prime, not a fearmongering despot like the mech who'd taken power. Akiba knew she had to accept her calling, for all of our sakes."

Elita studied the ground and thought about Orion's willingness to sacrifice his life as an archivist.

"But that didn't make it easy for her," Yoketron said. "Being a Prime isn't easy for anyone. From what I've heard, it's lonely and sparkbreaking. You see the best of society, but you also see the worst, and even in a time of piece, terrible things happen. The Matrix strengthens you but also prevents you from becoming numb to violence or injustice or sorrow. Primes in a time of war suffer even more. There is a reason the mantle of the calling tends to shorten the lifespan of the mech or femme who bears it."

Elita nodded, then froze. "Wait."

Yoketron stopped.

"She lived for more than eight hundred vorns. Most normal mecha fade after around five hundred."

"That's correct," Yoketron said.

"But if… if the Matrix shortens mecha's lifespans, how did she live so long?"

Yoketron smiled slightly and met Elita's optics. "She wasn't alone."

* * *

Notes:

1\. Sorry to cut the conversation short before you find out the actual reason Yoketron wanted to talk to her. Y'all have to wait a couple more chapters for that. :P

2\. Akiba Prime is totally a canon character. Tfwiki doesn't have much info about her, but from what's there she seems like an awesome person. And she has, like, lightning swords, which are cool. So I have adopted her into the Cybertronian history of my headcanon.

3\. Someday I'll write Yoketron's backstory. :) Someday. Eventually. You know, when I'm done writing the entire war, if people aren't sick of all my long-winded nonsense by then.

4\. Thanks for reading!


End file.
